


drunk on rosewater

by SapphireQueen



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternative Universe - Crime, Badass, Characters have been aged up, F/F, F/M, Gen, Mature content in chapter 4, Slow Burn, Tags will change as chapters go up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-01 13:16:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 35,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6521392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireQueen/pseuds/SapphireQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>King Pin Stanley Pines controls Gravity Falls, people love him, people respect him, there's no question about it. </p><p>But when their investor's daughter comes back home after years of being sent away, chaos ensues. Money, power and glory are up for grabs in a world where the only thing that matters is green.<br/>-<br/>Crime AU where Dipper becomes Pacifica's bodyguard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. a spark in the flames

**Author's Note:**

> FINALLY POSTING THIS. Comments are appreciated! I hope you enjoy my little project on crime fiction!

The diner was nearly empty as it always seemed to be around midnight, but that sure never stopped Detective Wade from enjoying herself a fresh pot of coffee, especially after being dumped in this small little town in the middle of Oregon. There doesn’t seem anything special about it, from its rundown looking businesses to it’s nearly haunting trees.

 _It’s the stress._ She concludes, taking a seat next to the jukebox. The rain that had started in a small pitter patter had suddenly turned violent, as if she was in some cheesy detective movie from way _way_ back. “Excuse me,” She motions, calling to a rather large woman who was cleaning up the counter. “Could I get coffee?”

“Sure, honey,” She answers, looking up and the detective notices the woman had one lazy eye. Karen doesn’t want to be rude, _she’s a goddamn professional,_ but she can’t help the thought. _Just another thing to add in this freaky town._ She takes her phone out and calls back to HQ. There’s no way this was the town all the strange activity was coming from, right? It seemed so ordinarily dull, from it’s boring mountainsides to it's the low moon. _George, this isn’t funny._ She would say, all venom and sweet edges. _This town in the middle of fucking nowhere? Crime spree and other worldly activity? Who do you think I am, Agent Mulder?_

Or at least, that’s what she _would_ say, if her phone got any signal.

“Here you go, Hun,” The woman says politely, setting down a cup and a couple of sugar packets. “Will that be all?”

Karen looks up and shrugs, she might as well get to the bottom of it and see what the boys had sent her down her to investigate. She whips her badge out and shows it to the nice lady. “Actually yes,” She says, leaving it open on the table. “Detective Karen Wade. I was wondering if I could ask you a couple of questions about the town. We’ve been getting some interesting reports and I was sent to investigate.”

The woman doesn’t let anything show on her face as she sits opposite the detective, Karen notices that she left the counter open, she must trust the locals enough to do so, even though said place was as empty as an old western. “Sure, it’s always nice to see a lady in the forces,” She says, leaning on the table. “My sister in law’s cousin used to be a policewoman, you’re all so tough. It’s an honor.”

Karen smiles in a small huff, but takes her favorite notepad and pen out. No need to intimidate the woman, she seemed like she had enough on her plate. “Thank you,” She responded, clicking the pen and opening the notebook to a rather heavily marked selection. “Tell me, Ms…”

“Susan,” She offered. “How silly of me! Didn’t introduce myself.”

“Don’t worry,” Karen waves away. “It was my mistake, I didn’t ask.” She’s not sure what she’ll get, but it’s better to start somewhere than do nothing at all. Besides, if rumors were true, it all started here, in this small town called _Gravity Falls_. “Now, Susan, what can you tell me about Stanley Pines?”

There’s a small flicker of change in the woman’s face, but it’s too quick for the detective to catch it. “Mr. Mystery?” She says, voice pitched a bit too high. “Why that ol’ kook runs the Mystery Shack in town. Tourist trap, a very nice place too!”

That she knew, which was why she had been sent here. _You want me to investigate a ex conman?_ She had fought, but in the end this hd been assigned her case anyway. “Yes but,” Karen takes a look at the surroundings, noticing the place had seen better days. The diner looked like it had been wrecked and repaired a couple of times. _Supernatural occurrences? God, Karen, now you_ **_are_ ** _sounding like Mulder._ “Reports say Mr. Pines is a much more… powerful force than that?”

Susan laughs, and Karen immediately notices it’s not a real one. It’s the type of laugh a mother in law makes when her son brings home a new girlfriend that she definitely doesn’t like. “Stanley? Nonsense, why, he wouldn’t hurt a fly. I should know cause one time I asked him to kill a spider for me and his nephew did it for him, his niece wouldn't stop bugging him about it anytime they came by.”

 _Nephew. Niece._ That was also in the report. Maybe they _had_ something here after all. “I never said he would hurt anyone, Susan,” She says, but notices the tension in the older woman. “Although, it’s only fair to assume you would think of that, since I am a cop.”

Karen pokes around but gets nothing particularly interesting. The only vital piece of information being that the Pines family had been the one who helped rebuild the diner after some mishaps. According Susan they were all drunk driver related issues, which was interesting cause how did a tourist trap produce that much money?

“Wonderful coffee, Susan,” She says, finishing her cup and taking her notepad and pen away, signifying that the interview was over, which seemed to be a relief to the woman. “Thank you for the co-operation.”

“It’s no bother, sugar,” She says, standing up. “Whatever you need, you can just go up to Mr. Pines himself! Don’t let him sell you something you don’t need, though, that cheeky salesman has his ways.”

Despite herself, Karen smiles back. “I won’t.” Looking out the window, she notices the rain had stopped. Maybe she should find a place to sleep tonight, start fresh in the morning. “Thank you for the service.” She says, leaving some money in the counter.

As she exits the diner, she hears Susan’s faint call of “Come again soon!” Before the bell chimed.

 

* * *

 

She doesn’t hesitate, picking the phone out immediately after the detective’s car was out of sight. Dialing an all too familiar phone number, Susan twisted the cord in her hand until the familiar hum of a deep voice answered. “Yeah?”

“They’re here, Stan,” She says, looking over the pictures that were placed all over the diner, several of them of the Pines family themselves. “And they’re sniffing.”

There’s a couple of seconds of silence before he replies. “Thanks for the heads up, doll. Stay safe, we’ll take care of it.”

 

* * *

 

Dipper doesn’t think much of anything when it comes to tasks Stan puts him out to do. You need him to come and exterminate a ghost? Fine. You need one of the Pines to come and survey the damage done on their businesses by rampant attacks on any supernatural creature or the other? Done. Getting invited to the Northwest’s grand dinner as both security measures and honored guests by Stan’s request? Not a problem

 However, he doesn’t like all the pompadour and glamour that has to come with it. “This wouldn’t be a problem if we went to more of these fancy events,” Mabel says, digging through their closet to try and find an appropriate piece of attire for the evening. There’s no point in fighting her, no matter how many foes Dipper has encountered in his twenty four years on this planet, none of them even come close to the threat his sister possesses. “You’re a neanderthal.”

  _Good thing she’s on his side._ “I don’t like suits,” He offers,  shrugging as he flips through a page or another of his journal. He knows this book better than he knows the back of his hand; studying it day in and day out, the Pines family has taken it as a means to survive. A how to, if you will. “Stan doesn’t even like the Northwests, I don’t see what the big deal is.”

 “Yes you do,” Mabel says, finding a dress appropriate enough for the event. It’s sleek and stylish, pink in the right hue and flexible enough for her to move and hide a stake on her leg in case of any immediate danger. “You’re smarter than that. You’re just whining ‘cause you don’t want to go.”

 And she’s right, he doesn’t. He’s never been a fan of fine dining and all the unpleasant pleasantries that came with greeting the Northwests. The only formality it served was in Stan’s greeting towards them,  a _thank you for not speaking shit to the higher ups about what we do. Here, have a fancy-schmancy dinner, protected from ghosts and all._ It’s not like they particularly needed the protection after all, since several of Gravity Falls’ authorities were well aware of Stan’s more illicit dealings, just as long as he kept them within Oregon and under a tight lock and key, they would have been fine. “Well, you’re not wrong.”

 “We’ve been doing this ever since we were twelve, you’d think you’d be used to it by now,” She added, twirling the gown around to inspect any tears and/or damage. It didn’t have any, they never do. Mabel was skillful like that. “Now, do you have a suit or not?”

 Sighing, he gets up and opens the closet a bit farther, pulling from the back the suit he had locked away for these precise events. “Here, happy?” He says, no real malice to his voice as he unwraps it and inspects it for damage. No harm done. Mabel smiles but doesn’t answer, which is enough of a cue for him.

 “Dipper, Mabel!” They hear their uncle call from bellow, the voice booming from what it seemed to be was heard to be the front of the gift shop. “Down, now!”

 They both climb down the stairs and meet their uncle at the living room, dressed in his more formal Mystery suit, Stan’s status would be betrayed by his appearance. To the average joe, he would look like your typical old man, a bit harsh on the exterior only to be softened by the eventual endearment that came, mostly to be sold some cheap merchandise you didn't ever want or need, but still. Yet, even after years of coming here every summer, after years of study and fighting, the twins were still always amazed by the commanded presence and power the Pines had on this side of the state. Not only was Stanley Pines a name who was both feared and respected all across town, but Stanford Pines had made a career in law, able to hide and support his brother in his more suspicious endeavors. When they finally make it to the living room, both men are sitting on the table, plans laid out in front of them.

 Something isn’t right.

 “Preston is asking for tighter security around these perimeters,” Ford offers as explanation, signaling towards the blueprint of the house. “Their daughter is coming back after years of not being home so this party itself is going to be bigger than usual.” Dipper has always thanked the quiet connection he and Ford seemed to share, both men of quiet and of a more solemn nature than their twin counterparts.

 “Daughter?” Mabel asks, crossing her arms as she leans in, studying the blueprints, not that they need much. Every year it seemed to be the same deal, protect the house from whatever entity was threatening or could threat, dispose of them, continue as if nothing was happening. Plain and simple.

 The daughter, however, threw them a bit off. “Yeah, Pacifica Northwest,” Stan answers, waving it away as if were a mere inconvenience. “Sent off to a boarding school when young and was attending college the last four years, basically it’s the first time she’s coming home in a long, _long_ time.”

 “Which means extra security, and that vengeful lumberjack ghost might rear it’s ugly head,” Ford offers as he rolls the blueprints for safe keeping. “We never could dispose of him properly.”

 “Category ten,” Dipper recalls, being the first time he’s talked in awhile. He remembers that one loud and clear. It’s the only one that escaped their grasps. “Do you really think her presence will call to him?”

 “Oh, I’m sure of it,” Stan replies, handing them all new stakes, guns and ammunition. All supernaturally resistant, all having done the job before. “All the Northwests in one place? It’ll definitely get some attention, that’s for sure.”

 The family nods, understanding the objective of the night. Be careful, be discreet, don’t cause any trouble. They could handle that.

 

* * *

 

As the car drove in through gates of the town, Pacifica could easily tell there was something different about the quaint little place she had grown up in. It may also have to do with the fact that she hadn’t been here in years and she had become rather homesick. 

"Justin," She calls upfront to the limousine driver. She would have loved to sit up in the front with him to recount tales of the town, but as his insistence, she rode in the back. _'You should ride the town like a Northwest does, Pacifica. Let everyone know you're back._ ' "Do you know if mother and father are going to be at the house when I get there?"  
  
The window separating them was already halfway down before she even asked her question. "I'm fairly sure they will, miss." He replies, turning a left. Pacifica looked out the window and there's a small part of her that appreciates the lack of change. Most stores are still the same from when she was child, the grass was as green as she remembered, the sky as blue. "Fair warning, the spooky things in this town aren't as fun as they used to be. A couple of years ago a team of experts have been cleaning up after them troublemakers. Got some of the locals jobs too."  
  
She doesn't think about it much, what these people are doing sounds like good things,. "That sounds nice," She replies. "So no more children missing to goblins?"  
  
"None at all," He says, and when taking a right, Pacifica was greeted by the big, looming gates by the front of the mansion. The same big, looming things that had haunted her nightmares for years to come. No child should have had to grow up in a place where metallic structures mixed themselves with wooden and marble columns to only be placed around them.  I tall felt too invasive, _too much_ . Which had been a reason she begged to be shipped off. Although, she missed the town itself.  
  
The gates open and Justin drives in, and the familiar pool of sensations of worry and gnawing nerves at her stomach start to flutter in her stomach as they pass the gardens, the fountain, and before she knew it, the limousine was being parked right in front of the mansion. She gets out at first, not willing to let Justin run the way around to open the door for her, and looks up. _It's bigger then I remembered_ , She thinks, but doesn't dwell on. She was back home now; no school, no college to keep her busy. She had stay here and figure out what to do with her life. _This is it._  
  
"Darling ," She hears her mother say as she walks down the stairs, in her best, most expensive pantsuit. "Welcome home."  
  
She moves in for a hug, and as much as Pacifica loathes it, she hugs back. _She's your mother._ She tells herself as they separate, Pacifica taking a good look at her. Last time she had physically seen her had been last Christmas when they had flown over to her and she looked the same; tired, sad but with just enough sparkle in her wine to keep her going.  
  
"I assume you had a safe flight," She hears her father's voice behind her and she stiffens out of custom. Exhaling, she turns to him and smiles, nodding at his question and hugging him with the same fervor she had her mother, which had been close to none. "Justin, please have her things up in her room."  
  
"I can take them," She says, trying not to sound as defensive as she felt, quickly snapping her bags up with her before the older man could even get to them. "It's no trouble."  
  
Preston grimaces but says no more. Pacifica must assume that he realizes she's not the same young girl he could scare down with a stare anymore. She follows her parents into the house and it's nearly suffocating.  
  
As big as the house was, and it was _massive_ , she had nearly forgotten how haunting it was. With an old style decor to it on the inside, it mostly felt like a haunted Victorian than anything else, and which what Pacifica could recall from her childhood, they weren't that far off.  
  
"We're having a party in your honor tonight," Priscilla tells her as they past the grand staircase, it's big spirals still just as grand as she remembered. "So be ready, we have top security called in for this. Everyone will be elated to have you back." And as if that was enough, with a little less graceful than a twirl, Priscilla turns around and leaves, leaving Pacifica to luge her bags up the stairs alone.  
  
When the hard work is done and she manages to get most of her possessions (or just the ones she brought with her) up the stairs, she opens the door to her childhood bedroom and is hit with a wave of nostalgia so hard it nearly knocked her out of her wits. The walls are the same lilac color they had always been, and it looks as if the maids had been keeping it clean ever since she left. It's soft purple and white decor palette, she finds, fits her just as well now. There's a hint of sadness to her when she realizes that it doesn't -- _and it has never_ \-- looked like a child's bedroom. It's too clean, it's too serious.  
  
She sighs, placing the bags on her bed and rearranging the clothes with where they belonged; she's a bit irked to see that her mother had gone shopping for her, but for all the faults Pacifica could place on her mother, her fashion sense hadn't been one of them. Taking pleasure in having everything organized, she takes a few keepsakes she brought with her from New York and went into her personal bathroom.  
  
It's white, as if it was carved by marble itself. A shower on one end, a big, cold tub on the other. She hums contentedly  as she starts undressing, placing her fluffy white robe on the rack. She runs the water on the tub and when it's full almost to the brim, she dips rose scented bubbles into it, letting it soak and overtake the smell in the room. Letting her hair down and finally taking off her diamonds, she slowly sits down on the pink watered tub, slowly slowly slowly until all her cares and worries fall away under a pink sky, everything swirling around her as she finally relaxes.

 

* * *

 

There's an itching sensation on his skin, slowly crawling up his spine as the tux nearly constricts him. He's used to a more breathable unit, less uptight around his torso and a more loose tie than the bow tie he had been forced to wear by his family. "Good, you look like a human being," Mabel had commented, tying his bow tie to which he replied with a quick huff.  

"Go stand presentable over there," He says, ushering his noisy sister away. As much as he loves his twin, she has a slight tendency, like the rest of his family,  that they can feel a bit overbearing at times. Not that he'd change them for anything else, but still. "Where's Stan anyway?"  
  
"Don't flip your lid, kid, I'm here," He hears his uncle's gruff voice as he steps towards them, tinkering with his cufflinks, Ford behind him as he fixed his bow tie. "Did you check all perimeters?"  
  
"Everything's clear," Dipper replies with a quick nod as he and Mabel had kept a watchful eye on the party at hand and so far nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. The Northwests threw a lavish grand party every year to commemorate something or another about their greatness and legacy, something Dipper could never get his head around but they had been invited to it anyway for the last couple of years. Their job was simple, keep an eye out for any trouble, look presentable, keep Stan's presence at an up high. Which, if he could speak frankly, had never been a problem before.  
  
Stanley Pines was many things; a con man, a gambler, a criminal and for lack of a better word, Gravity Falls’ own well established kingpin. He singlehandedly (which is what he will tell you, all the while Ford would softly sigh in the background, accepting his twin to have all the glory because really, he doesn't do well with crowds anyway) had the town's economy by sixty five percent, making him the second wealthiest member in the town, the first spot, of course, had always belonged to the Northwests, but he's made peace with it. How exactly did he come across so much wealth? His uncle would give brief snippets and but's to them as they grew up, tales going from con salesman, to counterfeiting, right up to smuggling, which they had also made peace with.  
  
The town owed a debt of gratitude towards Stan, as he had made it his mission to employ the poverty stricken sector of the town and shape them into fully working employees with humble salaries. Were the actions made and decided upon to take place over other regions of the state against the law? Only when the cops came sniffing by. Which is where the Northwests would come in. With their influence and money, they had manage to at least secure all police sectors in the town to look the other way. Something the Pines paid back by protecting their events, catering to their supernatural and sometimes more demeaning needs.  
  
It was a system that worked, and it hadn't failed yet.  
  
"We do have a small annoyance though," Mabel says, adjusting her hair to the right. "The Gleefuls are here, and they're brown-nosing again."  
  
"Let them embarrass themselves," Stan replies, shoving the care away, as it were a mere flick of dust on his nice suit. "It's not like they hold any _real_ threat."  
  
Dipper stiffens but doesn't comment, he's just here to do his job, although he should point out that the Gleefuls have almost ratted them out before... but Dipper had taken care of that little situation himself. "Word of mouth says that they have a new ally on their hands," Ford adds, adjusting his glasses. "Not much is known about the man, only that he goes by Cipher, which sounds oddly familiar."  
  
"Stupid ass name if you ask me," Stan scoffs, grimacing. Dipper looks his way to notice that Preston and Priscilla were making their way towards them. _Showtime_ .  
  
"Ah, the Pines, always a pleasure," Priscilla tries her best to smile in general greeting as Stan and Preston shake hands. Dipper’s never liked them, from Preston's cold face, to Priscilla's made up face, they were all fake people living in a plastic dungeon. "I assume everything has been taken care off?"  
  
"All perimeters are secure, Miss," Mabel comments, greeting the woman. He knows by features alone that his sister doesn't like them any more than he does, but she's better at masking it. _Clever girl_ . "Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a beautiful girl over there waiting to be courted around the room." She says in her most cheerful manner, making her way towards Wendy, the red headed young woman to whom Mabel was currently engaged to.  
  
He watches her walk away and greet Wendy in a loving manner, one that seems oddly foreign to him. While Stan, Ford and the Northwests' idle chatter starts to smooth away with the buzzing of the crowd, Dipper's eyes scan the room. There seem to be no abnormalities at the moment, the crowd seemed to be as boring as ever; rich person this, rich other person that, same faces, different events.  
  
Dipper Pines has never been one to want much in life; he's careful, calm, and just content with being of service to the family. " _You're a good kid,_ " Stan once commented as they disposed of further condemning evidence behind an abandoned lot. " _Smart, sharp, you'll do good in life_ ."  
  
" _You telling me this isn't good?_ " He had replied, making sure the packages were tight and secure. These needed to make it all the way across the border if they wanted their pay.  
  
" _I'm telling you I want you to do better than this_ ," Stan had added, making his way back to the truck they had come in, Dipper following behind him. " _You and your sister should had never been roped into this_ ."  
  
" _I like it_ ," He had simply replied, getting in the passenger seat. " _It suits me. It suits my needs_ ."  
  
Stan had simply replied with a scoff, turning on the truck, subsequently turning on the radio to an ol' blues station. His favorite. " _You'll fit in just fine, Dip_."

And now, as he looks at the crowd gathering to listen to whatever it was Preston was about to announce, he realizes that somehow Stan had been right. This life suited him, he enjoyed being in the underbelly of the state, moving things and getting shit done when no one else would. "Ladies and gentlemen," Preston's voice snaps him out of his trance and makes him focus on them. It was his job after all. "It's a pleasure to present to you all, after years of studying and putting the Northwest name on high regard, to finally welcome back home Gravity Falls' own Pacifica Northwest!" 

  
And down the stairs emerged a young woman,blonde hair placed on a side ponytail with a a few selects strands curled and dangling on her face, dressed in a one shoulder purple gown slowly descending the stairs, smiling at the crowd like she had practiced in front of a mirror, and in the back of the crowd, amongst the princes and the servants, Dipper watched.

 

* * *

 

 The party was as boring as any of these was going to get. Many people tried sweeping her into idle chit chat, all meshing together into one big storm of nothing. They all collide into one another from how uninteresting they were, from how dull it all seemed in comparison to the friends she had made back at college, even if they were few.  
  
She misses them as she swirls what's left of her champagne in the glass, humming a vague sound of content as the prince of whatever island came to greet her. "Thank you," She says, looking at how her parents had walked away from the crowd before her. _This is my chance._ "It was really nice catching up, but I really must go. I'm sorry, love."  
  
She doesn't give the prince a second more before she walks away, managing to get on her hand on another glass of champagne and walking towards the nearest balcony she could. The faster she could get fresh hair, the better.  
  
The clicking of her heels nearly give her away and she grips the rails of the balcony, glass of champagne placed away from her on the edge as she takes in a breath of fresh air. It's too much, it swirls in her head along with the champagne and the mix of choking colognes all the pretentious men wear in order to _woo_ her, even some of the ladies that had wanted her company had been haughty and desperate. She takes the champagne she had set aside and swings it back in nearly one gulp, not nearly enough alcohol in her system to make her feel secure around these leeches. She grips the stone ledge with her free hand.  
  
The town looks lovely from this view, the moon illuminates it and it looks more heavenly than she remembered. The water tower had been cleaned off  of all graffiti it ever had, the forest looked inviting and alluring, all the summers she wanted to dive in, searching for adventure, always being forbidden from it by stone walls in a crystal castle. She sighs as she looks down, thumbing the empty champagne glass, no need to get hung up on the details of a missed childhood now.  
  
" ** _Northwest_** ," A voice calls to her, causing her to stand straight, a sort of trance in her body making walk without direction, towards the voice. " ** _Fulfill your family's destiny_**."  
  
Her right leg goes forward, smoothing itself past the open slit of her dress, and before she knows it she walking down the halls of the mansion, it's lights lowered for the atmosphere, the voice calling to her in an echo.  
  
She doesn't remember how she got here, but she had somehow been moved from the crowded places of the main room to the quiet, private white room her parents had exclusively for special guests. Filled with white colored artifacts, carpet and even the trophies collected in the single room had been placed precariously on white shelves. There's a vague memory of being terrified of ever stepping foot here when she was a child, yet she can't help the allure of the call. Because as far as Pacifica is concerned, there's a fire calling to her from inside of the never-lit fire escape, and it's blue hues are enticing. " ** _Young Northwest_** ," The voice speaks again, gaining an octave higher as her heels stop making noise as she hits the carpeted floor. " ** _It's been a long time, welcome home_**."  
  
" _Home_ ," She repeats, the word feeling strange on her voice, and knowing full well that even though this was a house, it has never been a home. Her conscience wants to scream the better of her, to get out, to get away. _This_ , whatever was calling her, was one of the reasons she had been sent away. "I--There's--" She wants to speak but her voice is shut, words stuck on her throat, choking on them. Her entire body feels solid now, and she finds she can't move a muscle, not even a _goddamn_ finger and terror sets in. She opens her mouth, to scream, to get help, any help but nothing comes out. _I'm going to die here._ __  
  
There's a flash of bright- _-too bright-_ \- light glowing and the entire room feels like it's on fire and Pacifica can't move. " ** _Down the line of some rather degrading descendants, aren't you_**?" The voice circles her before manifesting itself into a being in front of her; not exactly human, but similar enough, a ghost of a man once scorned hundreds of years ago. " ** _Your blue blood won't save you now_**."  
  
" _Wanna bet_?" A male voice says from behind her as the ghost somehow turns solid, a bat bashed to the side of its head. Movement is managed once more when Pacifica breathes deep and loud, falling on her knees. When had she stopped breathing? Wheezing, she looks up and notices a young man managing to fight the ghost, managing to pin it to the ground only to have him being flung across the room against the wall. A grunt as he coughs into his hand, the other leaning on his rib. "Give me what you got, I've taken worse."  
  
Before she has any collective thought or reason to call this man insane, someone comes up to her, kneeling beside her. "Northwest is secure," The young woman says into a device that seems to be in one of her bracelets. Pacifica looks at her and she looks about her age, brown hair long and a scowl to her face that seems to imply she was solely focused on whatever was happening in front of them. "Dipper's made contact with category ten, currently getting the shit beat out of him too."  
  
"Back him up," Someone says from the device and it sounds like an older man, one her father had introduced to her before all of this but she hadn't had the slightest interest whilst it happened -- _Pines_? Was this the Pines family she kept hearing about? "Corduroy's on her way, she'll get Northwest out." And as if on cue, another woman appeared on her side, managing to make her stand up.  
  
"You okay?" She asks, and Pacifica nods, which all she can do. She doesn't quite understand what's going on but what she can gather, she can definitely see it's no good. "You okay, babe?" She asks the girl on her right, which nods before jumping into the room, throwing the man currently fighting ghost what appeared to be a bottle. Before she can see any more, the redhead grabs her by the hand and leaves, motioning for Pacifica to follow behind her. Almost immediately as they reach out the door to the doors bang shut.  
  
"Who _are_ you people?" Is the first thing out of her mouth as she pats her dress and kicks off her heels. No need for those to get in the way.  
  
The redhead, nodding at the gesture, does the same. "Chill, we're the protection squad hired for this exact reason," She offers as an explanation as she takes one of the bracelets off her wrist and hands it to Pacifica. "Here, put this on. It's silver, it'll keep the power of those ghosts away."  
  
She wants to laugh, hysterically and ugly but the dread of feeling as powerless as she did a moment ago is terrifying to her so she does as told. "What's happening?"  
  
"You've been away a long time, but things somehow stayed the same," She replies, adjusting the other bracelets. "I'm Wendy. What's currently happening is that that vengeful ghost your folks thought they got rid off a few years ago was called by your presence, which is how we make it into the picture."  
  
Before Wendy can say anything more, the Northwests and the older Pines twins run down the corridor. "Where are the kids?" Stan asked, more towards Wendy's direction than her.  
  
"They're in there," Wendy says, with a nod of her head towards the closed door. "Mabel seemed ready but Dipper, well..."  
  
"Don't even say it, I know where this is going," Stan sighs, placing his fingers on the bridge of his nose. "At least they're doing their job, you doing okay, Pacifica?" He asks, and it takes her a moment to respond. _Welcome home, to your weird little town with its weird little quirks._  
  
"Yeah," She nods, a hand rubbing her elbow for comfort. "I think I am." She looks at her parents to see if they had any concern written on their faces and she can't say she's surprised to find none. She could almost hear them. _Thank god the scandal was so far away._ __  
  
"No one in the crowd seemed to notice," Priscilla says nearly on cue and Pacifica could roll her eyes forever. Typical. "We better get back, we don't want to arouse any suspicion."  
  
"The room," Preston says, giving his daughter a once over look before directing his attention to one of the twins. "I assume you'll be covering the damages."  
  
"As always, Preston." He says, a rather foul scowl to his words as he ignores her father and directs his words at her. "Maybe we should get you some help, just to make sure, is that alright with you?"  
  
When she nods, relieved that someone seemed to care even a little, Stan clamps his hands as Preston and Priscilla walk away, as if they're daughter wasn't in danger just a couple of minutes ago. "Real piece of work, those two," He says between teeth as he takes some sort of weapon from his coat pocket. "Take her to Soos, I'm going to help these two out."  
  
Nodding, both Wendy and the other man walk back with her down the hall, the opening and closing of the door being interrupted by a glass shattering and someone screaming.

 

* * *

  
  
"You're lucky, most people who see ghosts usually get a scratch or two," The male nurse said as he finished checking her arms. He had been very pleasant to be around and for the first time in a while, Pacifica felt like she could actually breath. "Okay, Miss Northwest, I think you're good to go."  
  
"Thank you, Soos," She says, still not standing or even wanting too. She had been taken to the library, where Soos had already some equipment patched up and ready to go, but something told Pacifica it wasn't necessarily for her. She's sitting by the desk, since Soos had insisted so he could get a higher view, and for now she was rather comfortable with staying there. "Soos... What happens now?"  
  
"What do you mean, Miss?" He asked, wiping his palms on his pants.  
  
She bites her lower lip as she formulating the question in her head. Everything had suddenly happened so fast and so out of nowhere that she was having a hard time processing all of it. "Is the ghost gone or..."  
  
"That all depends on how the other dudes handle it," He responds nonchalantly, as if he's seen these things before, which it might as well be true. "Trust me, Miss. The Pines, they're good people and they're good at their jobs."  
  
"Jobs?" She asks, but doesn't have time to receive an answer before the doors of the library swing open, Stan and Ford carrying the young man who had saved her between them.  
  
"Kid loves collecting scars, doesn't he?" Stan says, trying to soften the blow of his worried tone when he and Ford lay the man down on the desk Pacifica had nearly jumped off of. "You're gonna give me a heart attack, kid."  
  
"It's... not that bad, Grunkle Stan," He says through a winced voice and Pacifica had to disagree with this lunatic. It looked bad. His suit was ruined, tattered to pieces and he was bleeding from his side. "These are merely scratches."  
  
"Dipper, please," Ford says, running a hand through his hair in an affectionate manner as Soos starts taking off was left of the shirt to attend to the wound. It seemed to be minor damages though, glass on his side but nothing punctured. Pacifica looked away, she felt like she was intruding but she also faced a difficult decision as she also didn't want to step foot outside.  
  
One of the girls who had walked in behind them seemed to notice and walked towards her. "Hey," She says and she sounds smoother than before, more calm, as if her work mode had been deactivated. "I'm Mabel, sorry for the spook but we're glad to tell you he's gone now."  
  
"Really?" Pacifica asks in a low tone of voice as Mabel and Wendy usher her out the room, a low hiss being heard as the door closed. She cringed. "How did you do it?"  
  
"Holy water and trapping him in a silver mirror seemed to do the trick," Mabel offers, and even though she herself seemed a bit beat up and bruised, she wasn't bleeding anywhere, she seemed to be fine. "Again, sorry that this is our introduction, but that in there is my brother, Dipper. He's the one who alerted us on you."  
  
She had figured that much out, considering he was the first one to show up. "What exactly do you guys do?"  
  
Mabel takes a look at Wendy, who shrugs and then looks back at Pacifica. "A lot of things," She says, leaving it at that. Pacifica nods, good with the information so far. After an hour or so of talking, the doors open to reveal Stan and Ford walking out and a bandaged up Dipper behind them. "I'm going to kill you if you keep diving headfirst like that." Mabel says, more relief in her voice than anything else as her brother seemed to laugh.  
  
This entire concept was so far away and foreign to Pacifica, she didn't exactly know how to react to all of it. This family was so loving and nurturing of each other that it seemed out of this planet. She took a step back, letting them have their moment only to feel the dread of her parents walking towards them.  
  
If Pacifica could, she'd face all the ghosts in the world before having to be with her parents again. "Everything’s under control?" Preston asks, adjusting his tie. The ever growing image of perfection among all of them who were either frazzled, bruised or bloody.  
  
"Everything's under control, Preston," Stan replies, and again the scowl is back, a commanding, cold tone she hadn't heard before but is oddly effective. "I suggest you moving away your daughter. At least from the house. This mansion is probably riddled with other possible threats and since she's technically new bait, the best place for her is away from here and with one of my kids protecting her."  
  
Pacifica shouldn't have felt the wave of relief that she did on the prospect of leaving this goddamn place, and thank the universe she had managed to keep it in check or else would receive a speech that she didn't want and didn’t have time for. "There's an apartment up for sale in town," She says, and it feels like the first time she's talked in a long while. "I can stay there until this whole thing clears up."  
  
There's a groaning sound, but Dipper somehow manages to speak up, looking at the Northwests, including her in his vision and for the first time Pacifica feels like she's being talked to as an equal, not a victim. "I can do the job," He says. "Mabel's getting married anyway, no need to drag her into this."  
  
"I can speak for myself, bro," Mabel says, but doesn't fight, seeming to like this arrangement. Wendy laughs, wrapping an arm around Mabel.  
  
Preston doesn't say much, other than looking at him up and down, the haughty air of condescending slowly turning more bitter. "Will you be fit for it?"  
  
"I've had worse, sir," Dipper responds and it's nearly electrifying in the air, the way Preston looks down on him. "I'll be ready."  
  
"Fine," Preston says, finally breaking the tension and looking at Pacifica. "Your things will be packed tomorrow. And sent your way."  
  
And with that and a swing of his wine glass, Preston and Priscilla walk away, now that their precious investment was secure. Pacifica sighs, crossing her arms. " _Pricks_ ."  
  
"Sharp tongue," She hears Dipper chuckle as the rest of them start dicing themselves amongst groups, probably going back to the party or planning strategies as to what to do next. He walks up to her and offers his hand. "I'm not feeling my best, so you'll have to forgive my manners and current state."  
  
She rolled her eyes but managed to smile, even bruised and bandaged up, Dipper seemed like a genuine person when he spoke; they all did, and it was a nice change of pace. "Please," She scoffs. "You saved my life, you can get away with it for now."  
  
"What a privilege," He laughs. "Dipper Pines."

  
Pacifica takes his hand and smiles, it's not a wide smile, but it's not the toothpaste commercial fake one she had managed to hold all night. "Pacifica."


	2. careful around the light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Two! Quick heads up, though. This was written a while back and while I did try to edit it myself, English is not my first language therefore I apologize if it becomes a bit hard to read. (I just did not have time to look for a BETA reader, I am currently looking for one in future projects. The only reason I am not picking one out for Chapter One or Two is because I have placed myself on a strict schedule.)
> 
> But other than that, thank you all so much for the enthusiasm!

The move to the apartment is almost immediate, not leaving any ground for him to get accustomed to. Stan delivered him to the building he’d be sharing a room with the girl for what was currently arranged to as three months. He hadn’t been given the exact details on why such a specific space of time, but then again, he hadn’t asked questions. Dipper had offered himself for the job, so there was no room for him to complain.

And as he takes a step inside the apartment, he still doesn’t find a reason to. In fact, the complete opposite. The apartment was fancy, a nice balcony door that outlooked the forest and a nice living room couch that although small, perfectly accommodated two people. Walking down the hall and noticed that the door to his bedroom was right in front of hers, or which the one he assumed was hers since it had already personalized, little tidbits around signifying someone had already come by. He arches a brow but shrugs, not his place to ask, at least not _now_.

Taking a step inside, his room is barren and only holding a dresser and a mattress, and to be completely honest, he planned on keeping it that way. Other than putting clothes where they belonged, he decides keeping it easy was for the best. If at any moment he had to leave, or Stan decided that business needed to be taken care of, he’d be ready to go. No need to leave a trace behind.

“ _Pines_ ,” Pacifica calls in, the door being jammed open as she walked in with some bags and trinkets. Now that the glamour of the party had been pushed away, he’s able to look at her and is genuinely surprised that she’s just as pretty as she was all dressed up. She looks at him with a confused expression and he snaps, helping her with the bags. “You like the apartment?”

“Does it matter?” He answers cheekily, taking the bags from her hands. “I assume you made it before I did, considering you’re already established.”

“I bought the apartment before getting to the mansion,” She replies, placing the keys on the coffee table as she made her way to the kitchen. Dipper, not knowing where to place the bags just plops them on the couch, assuming she’ll get to them later. He doesn’t mention how she keeps referring to the house as mansion and never as _home_ but shrugs it off. _None of his business._

“Not a fan of the high life?” Okay, so sue him; he’s not good at letting things go.

She stops fiddling with the cheese sticks she was trying to open and looks up at him, her mouth a thin line as she takes a deep breath and goes back to the task at hand. _Point taken, touchy subject._

There’s an awkwardness that goes with the whole ordeal, seeing as how he’s never been a bodyguard before. His job usually consisted of ghosts and demons, blood, guts and generally less than generous people. He’s not exactly sure how in depth Pacifica is about his family, but he can safely conclude they’ll have that conversation sometime, considering they’ll be living together for the next couple of months in this tiny enclosed space.

“So, how does this work?” Pacifica asks, nibbling on one of the cheese sticks she finally managed to open. She sits by the couch so he takes the seat on the other side of it, running a hand through his hair and sighing. “I mean I’ve had bodyguards before, but--”

“Save it,” Dipper chuckles, looking up at her, elbows resting on his knees. “I’ve been informed that you’ve somehow manage to drive them all away.” He looks at her and is shocked at the unapologetic look on her face. He’ll give her that, she was being honest from the get go. “So I can safely assume you don’t want me here.”

“I really don’t,” She shrugs,crossing her legs. “It’s nothing personal, I just don’t want anyone in my personal space.”

And considering the size of the apartment, they would find each other in the other’s personal space a lot. “Well, you’ll have to make peace with that,” He responds, leaning back. “We both have some getting used to to get through, I’ve never been a bodyguard before.”

“Geez, that’s reassuring,” She scoffs, crossing her arms. He looks at her from his peripheral vision and arches an eyebrow. “So, do you always throw yourself at danger or do you actually think things through?”

 _Arrogant_. “You caught me in the heat of the moment, blondie.” He replies, trying not to laugh at the way her head whips to her side to look at him. If looks could kill those icy blue orbs of her would obliterate him. “No nicknames then?” He asks with the best shit-eating grin he could muster.

She doesn’t find this amusing. “Great, I got the cheeky one.” And at that he has to at least huff out a laugh. To which she rolls her eyes out. “Just try to keep to yourself mostly.”

“I can’t promise you anything,” Dipper says, making a show out of looking at his nails. “I’m suppose to keep an eye on you 24/7, so get used to my pretty face.”

There’s a sigh that lodges itself out from what seemed like the depth of her soul, her back leaning back on the couch. “You’re gonna be difficult, aren’t you?”

“I’m definitely not here to be easy, if _that’s_ what you mean.”

“You’re charming,” She answers bitterly, catapulting herself out of the couch by the force of her arms. He rests his head on his hand and looks up at her. “I’m going to my room,” She offers as an explanation, taking the bags that were between them. “Gonna sort all of this out, make yourself at home, I guess.”

He laughs and watches her strut away, her chin up high and grimace on her lips, a small huffed sound as she turned away. She was going to be handful, but nothing he can’t manage.

 

* * *

 

Pacifica isn’t used to having someone watch over her like a hank, not that Pines was doing such a good job at it either. It’s the third week in and the most he’s done is just scan his eyes over her and her surroundings, making sure she’s around and safe. He follows her around when she’s out, making appointments, running errands, nothing really exciting happens, nothing to write home about. They manage to work out a schedule conducting between what she will do during the week and how often he gets to go out to do… _whatever_ it is that he does.

“ _I’m going out_.” He would often say before disappearing, Wendy or Mabel taking the turn to watch over her. He never left for his own pleasure, though. It was always when Stan called. There was a strange surreal aspect  to how loyal the entire Pines clan were towards each other. Nothing compared to what she saw that first night, but she could see the small snippets of it, a version of it downplayed in modern situations. Pacifica has never asked what _exactly_ is it that they did besides dealing with the supernatural but as Pines continually disappears and reappears in her apartment with bruised hands and messed up attire, she finds herself _itching_ for an answer.

“So, what _does_ your family do when you’re not hunting ghosts?” She asks one night as he takes the plates from their dinner table and loads them in the dishwasher. When said plates are disposed he looks up at her as he shut the dishwasher door. “I mean, that can be all you guys do if my parents are so up in arms about keeping you around.”

“What _do_ you know about what _your_ family does?” He replies with a question of his own. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to shatter any _conception_ you might have of them.” He grins at her, causing her to groan. He does that a lot, anytime he wants to turn the subject he throws her this wolf grin that _yes_ , handsome as it is, hardly worked. She’s been with people who try to charm their way out of situations since she was a child, so she’s built an immune system to it.

Although Pines proves himself to be a challenge. “Trust me, I have _no_ conceptions of them.”

“What have you heard of us?” He asks her, leaning forward on the table on.

“That your uncle has the entire town’s loyalty,” Pacifica replies, crossing her arms. “So I’m assuming you either are just _incredibly charismatic_ , or some other shady shit is going on.” He’s still grinning at her when he leans against the kitchen sink and she’s not going to lie, she’s enjoying the thrill he places on her, forces her to be cunning, forces her to actually be challenged.

“We’ve done two or three favors around,” He answers, walking right past her and out of the small kitchen and to the living room they’ve been sharing for the last couple of days. “There may or may not be some dirt on our hands and seeing as how your parents are mostly the ones who cover up for us, I guess it’s in the clear that you should know to.”

“And by dirt, I assume you mean blood and other substances,” She replies, following him into the room. “Is your uncle in charge of the coke trafficking in the state?”

“Out of it too,” He replies like it’s a medal to be worn on his chest. “Stan monitors all the trafficking, which means he also checks out what comes in. He does business with  lot of outside dealers and since we mostly sell outside and try not to affect too many people here, we mostly stay safely under the radar.” There’s something to be made about the way Pines talks about his family’s legacy. There’s pride in it, and she can respect that. “I believe in what he does, he’s trying to wipe out the scum from the town until it’s clean, which he why he builds and rebuilds stores and businesses around town, keeping everyone up-float and prosperous.”

“I heard he even gives jobs out,” She says, as if she was finishing for him. “I’m impressed. Last kingpin the Northwests try to cover for had them abandoning New York City, which is why the lineage ended up here.”

“Their mistake was going after a town that has too many competition,” He replies, sitting down on the couch, flipping through some old book he keeps around. “Nobody was doing anything here, so Stan thought it was perfect, and in  way it was.”

“I’m impressed,” She comments, and to her complete surprise she honestly was. Not only had this family been brought up from nothing to make something out of themselves, but they maintained their humble roots. It’s not often she sees that among the more elaborate society her parents tended to keep company of. “So what made you take on this babysitting job?”

He looks at her from the book and shuts it. “I’d hardly call it babysitting.”

She shrugs her shoulders as she leans against the door frame, staring at him. “You keep an eye on me all of the time, I’d call it babysitting.”

“It’s my job to make sure you’re safe and secure at all times, Princess,” He snides, placing it on top a lovely name she had never wanted. He also does this a lot, refuses to call her by her name and places several nicknames on her. “And like I told you before, you’re not scaring me away like you did the rest of ‘em.”

“I know,” She replies with a sigh, taking  seat next to him and taking the remote control with her, scrolling through the Netflix queue. “I’m kind used to you by now anyway.”

There’s a small sliver of silence that overtakes the room as she decides on something to watch, he doesn’t make much comment as his attention is focused once again on the book he held. Pacifica looks him over and can’t help but wonder what exactly it is that he’s done, what he does on the rare occasion that he’s not here. She’s noticed scars on him before but hasn't commented on them; she knows what it’s like to have them and personally, she wasn’t ready to share either. Besides, everyone’s entitled to their secrets. “You wanna watch _Breaking Bad_?”

His gaze flickers up for just a second but there’s the tentative smile that makes something inside of her stomach flip, which is _not_ a welcoming feeling. “Please, I actually haven’t managed to get around season four.”

“Well it’s your lucky day, Pines,” She says, clicking play. “Me neither.”

 

* * *

 

It’s the middle of the night when he hears someone walking into the house.

His senses are on high alert as he eyes the watch to his right. Big, bold numbers that read 2:35am blinked in front of him as he honed in all of his senses, making sure he actually heard something and it wasn’t an outside noise.

A wooden creek, the pitter-patter of noise catches at his ear and without sparing a second thought he grabs the gun he keeps under his mattress and heads out the door. The hallway is eerily creepy, but the soft light that comes from the living room manages to give him a field of vision. The sound of a sliding window pops up, and whoever was roaming around in their kitchen had brought a friend because he knows just by the distance of the sound that it’s Pacifica’s window being open. He opens her door and manages to catch the man who was hovering over her bed in  choke-hold, slamming his body on the floor, twisting his arm over him. “ _Shit._ ”

With a scream, Pacifica wakes up, turning the lamp on and Dipper had already wiped his gun out and placed it on the invader’s head. “Who _sent_ you?” He asks, clicking the barrel back. “You better speak now, you little shit. I don’t wanna damage the lady’s nice carpet.”

“Dipper stand down!” A voice comes from outside and walks into the room, a scrawny man Stan hired three months ago came in, dressed in black from head to toe, Dipper can’t remember his goddamn name for the life of him. “Northwest sent him.”

“ _What_?” Pacifica exclaims from her bed, stepping up to put on a long pink nightwear gown covering her tiny white pajamas. “What are you talking about?”

Dipper still has the other man’s twisted arm in one hand and the gun firmly placed against the man’s skull. “Talk, or I’m sending him back in _pieces_.”

“ _Jesus Christ_ I forgot how scary you are,” The young man says in, stepping in with his hands up. “You ruined a perfectly good fighter’s arm. Northwest sent a decoy just to make sure you were doing your job. Stan sent me to make sure you didn’t kill the guy.”

“That’s a pretty stupid fucking plan,” Dipper says, letting the man go, watching  the other one slowly pick him up. “Of course I’m going to react, he came through her window.”

“Tell my father to never do something like that again or I am coming over there myself and make a scene,” Pacifica says over him, walking up towards the man. “Got it? Or so help me I will _destroy you_ myself.”

Dipper’s eyebrows perk up and he wants to grin in surprise and pleasure but he doesn’t, at least not in the moment. He watches the man inch away from Pacifica and walk out the door, and he hears it slam shut just a moment after. He looks at her and the anger that had burned in her eyes seconds ago had slowly disappeared, being replaced by the tiredness she must have felt.” _Impressive_.” He says, in a low whistle, the grin he had been suppressing now making it’s way to his face.

“It’s not the first time he’s done this shit,” Pacifica grumbles, crossing her arms and making her way back to her mattress, sitting on the edge of it and crossing her legs, the slight sliver of the robe making the leg that’s propped visible. He feels the back of his neck heat up. “He does this with every new bodyguard, I’m surprised he took _this_ long.”

There’s an uneasy feeling that goes on in pit of his stomach when she mentions the fact that this isn’t the first time. What kind of asshole does that to their kid? “What the fuck is wrong with him?”

Pacifica chuckles and it’s a cold chuckle, there’s no humor in it, it just seemed like she took a sadistic pleasure in someone else thinking shit of her parents as well. “Gotta hand it to you, never seen one break the dude’s arm before.”

“It was on instinct,” He replies, noticing that that was probably the wrong thing to say but it was too late anyway. She didn’t think much of it. “Sorry if it bothered you.”

“It didn’t,” She huffs out just a bit too fast. He can’t tell whether she’s lying or not but decides not to push it. “Go back to sleep, I’ll be fine. I have stuff I need to do tomorrow so I need you awake and alert.”

He nods, understanding the sentiment clearly. She wants this all to be over. “Night,” He says, before walking back out and closing the door behind him, not before checking the entire apartment before heading to his own room.

 

* * *

 

She’s still thinking about it when they arrive at Northwest manor, and the anger isn’t as hate filled and strong as it was before but it’s there and it’s nearly boiling in her blood. He had sent someone to scare her, just to make sure Dipper Pines was doing his job. How was she _supposed_ to react?

“Father,” She announces as she opens the doors dramatically to the estate, Pines following behind her as always. “I need a word, _now_!”

As if on cue, a servant came to greet her at the door. “Pacifica,” She greets. “I’m afraid to tell you Mr. Northwest is currently absent. He’s attending a business meeting with a potential client.”

“Of course he is,” She groans, running a hand through her hair. “Tell him to call me as soon as he gets here, Janet, please.” She says softer, knowing that none of the workers here deserved her rage. Oh no, that was strictly reserved at the moment. “I’m sorry to cause disturbance.”

“None at all, miss,” Janet responds kindly. Pacifica nods and hugs her, before heading out.

Pines, of course, had now decided to talk. “So, what now?” He asks, taking the front seat of the car. Pacifica sat in the passenger seat. “Not that seeing you angry isn’t a joy, but I’m pretty sure the point is moot by now.”

“He needs to stop doing this,” She says, hands curling into fists at her sides. “I can handle myself.”

He doesn’t say anything as he starts the car, letting her cool out and manage her own thoughts; she appreciates that. “Look,” He says after a while of driving particularly nowhere. “You dad’s a dick, I’ve never liked him anyway, but if it helps you feel any better, I’ve definitely lost what little respect I had left for him.”

Pacifica’s tense state seemed to soften, laughing softly under her breath. “Thanks,” She says, leaning back on the seat. “Let’s get lunch, somewhere nice and private where the probability of people recognizing me is zero.”

Dipper grins. “I know the _perfect_ place to go.”

 

* * *

 

The diner was nearly empty when they stepped in and Pacifica is a bit embarrassed to admit she’s never been to one before. “Never?” Dipper-- _when had it changed to Dippe_ r?-- asks incredulously as he opens the door for her, the bell chiming as they walked in, the sweet smell of pancakes and coffee nicely mingling one with the other. “Oh man, wait till you try Susan’s food, you’ll love it.”

“ _Dipper_!” An enthusiastic older woman with a lazy eye says as she pours an older man a cup of coffee. “Who’s this lovely young lady? Oh you never bring girls around!”

“Relax, Susan, she’s a friend,” He responds scoffing and Pacifica has to fight off the blush that threatens to spread across her cheeks. “Susan, meet Paz.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Pacifica greets, smiling as the woman smiled back. She appreciates Dipper’s attempt at hiding her real name enough as to not draw attention. “She’s nice.”

“Susan’s the best,” He replies, picking a booth the farthest from the door. “A little bit of a chatter mouth though, but in her own charming way.”

As Pacifica takes a seat, she can’t help but notice the wall behind the counter. Layers of different pictures clutter the wall, various visiting families and tourists, a picture of the place when it was founded and a picture of the place when it was apparently rebuilt. She notices a familiar set of brunette heads and smiles softly. “So this is one of the places your uncle fixed up?”

Dipper takes one of the complimentary mints that Susan has on all the tables and throws one in his mouth. “Yeah,” He says. “Stan and Susan had been friends for years, and once Susan’s place was attacked by both a rival gang and supernatural creatures, Stan paid to fix it up, even drew in more business.” Not that at the moment it was thriving, but it _was_ 3pm. Most people were working at this hour.

He hands her the menu but she doesn’t even look at it, already having a good idea of what she wants, and as if she was summoned, Susan appeared with a notepad and pen. “What can I get for you two youngsters?”

“Give me the usual, Susan,” Dipper says, closing the menu. “I don’t know why I insisting on even looking at it when I always order the same thing.”

Susan laughs and writes whatever his usual was down, then looks at her. “Um…” She says nervously, suddenly aware she was in unfamiliar territory. “I’ll have burger, fries and a vanilla milkshake?”

Nodding, Susan writes it down and smiles at them. “I’ll be back with your drinks shortly.”

When she finally walks away from them, Pacifica takes a moment to look at her surroundings. Several booths, low lights with some generic pop music station placed low, there’s a TV in the corner of the breakfast bar playing some baseball game and she’s surprised over how comfortable everything seems, and surprised at how comfortable and relaxed Dipper seemed among all of it.

Even in the apartment, when it was just the two of them, Dipper always kept an on the edge look to his eye, one where you could tell he was aware of his surroundings at all times and was ready to spring into action at any given moment, much like the night before. In fact, thinking about the night before sent shivers down her spine for all the wrong reasons. She shouldn’t have felt as flushed as she did when Dipper came bursting through her door and pinning the guy to the floor on hand and gun. She shouldn’t have felt the warmth in her body increase when she heard the gun click, _what kind of sick person thinks like that?_ “Dipper,” She says, and this catches his attention because it’s the first time she’s used his name rather than his surname. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

There’s a weird dissonance between the way he smiles, which for the first time in days looks like a genuine one, and the slight red she swears she saw at the tips of his ears. “It’s nothing, Paz,” He says, leaning his elbows on the counter. “I just hope you like it as much as I’m hyping it up to be.”

“You don’t throw praise around lightly so I trust you,” She teased, and in a way she is telling her own version of the truth. In the few weeks she’s gotten to know him, Dipper has grown to be more and more of a constant in her life rather than an annoyance. The fact that he actually treats her like a human being instead of an asset to be secured or an object that needs to be protected is a privilege she hasn’t been offered in a long time. He treats her how he does other people who are made of flesh and blood, like she’s nothing more than another human being and it’s a feeling that has been missed. “Now what exactly is your usual?” She grinned.

Which caused him to grin back. “You’ll just have to wait and see.” He answers, slicking his mess of brown hair back. “Pacifica look, if your father _does_ come rolling around, let’s keep what happened last night under the radar,” He says in a low tone of voice. “I already got a call from Stan this morning chastising me for breaking the guy’s arm, so I think your father got the message across. And I know this isn’t about me, and more about that asshole of a dad you got but I don’t think fighting with him is going to do much.” He lets out a breath. “Besides, if we’re lucky, he’s gonna take the hint and not throw anyone else our way.”

And Pacifica has an urge to fight him on this, because he’s right, it _wasn’t_ about him; it never has been. It was about _her_ assertive need to prove to her father that she was independent and didn’t need him to constantly monitor her. _But_ , she has had this conversation with Preston before and it _has_ gotten her nowhere, maybe if she was lucky Dipper managed to scare away any other potential opportunities to send others their way. “I guess you’re right,” She says, as Susan leaves their drinks on the table. “It kills me to say it, but you are.”

“Oh it must _burn_ you,” He snorts. “But I appreciate you saying it.”

After a couple of minutes of talking about nothing at all in particular, Susan appears around the corner with her food and a plate of pancakes and a soda for Dipper. He proceeds to drown them in syrup, which she found oddly endearing. “Do you want some pancakes with that syrup?”

“You’re not the first one to make that joke, Northwest,” He playfully replies, jamming a bite into his mouth. “I’m disappointed, I’d thought you’d come up with something much better than that.”

Pacific smiles before taking a sip of her milkshake. “Fine, sweet tooth. Don’t come crying to me when you look at yourself years from now and wonder why you have a big, fat gut.”

Dipper licks the syrup from his lips and winks at her, causing her to nearly choke on her first fry. “Atta, girl.”

 

* * *

 

Pacifica Northwest is slowly worming her way into his everyday thoughts on non-work related issues and this situation suddenly turned from code red to code _get me the fuck out of here_.

Because here’s the thing about Dipper Pines, if he’s proud of one thing, it’s his strict laser focus on everything that centers around both his job and his family, which luckily for him they always seemed to interconnect.

But right now, as he watches Pacifica model some dress or another in a boutique he’s never been to before on the one-month mark of their domestic partnership, there’s something prickling at his skin, and it’s not his clothes this time. The sentiment is odd and unnerving as it spreads from variation to variation to Pacifica greeting him in the morning with her hair still a mess as she rubs her eyes, or after dinner when they would watch TV for a while before she inevitably fell asleep, making him carry her to her room.

“Dipper,” She says, snapping him from his thoughts. “What do you think of this one?”

She’s dressed in a light blue sundress that perfectly accommodates every inch of her, her hair up in a ponytail today because she said it highlights her earrings-- whatever _that_ means-- and her legs are long and beautiful under the semi flowy skirt. “It’s great,” He answers, because really, what can he answer without getting his foot in his mouth? “I like the color.”

She smiles and it’s so vibrant and real it’s almost painful to look at. _She’s so beautiful._ He thinks looking as she twirls one more time as she looks in the mirrors before she goes back into the dressing room. _Too good for anyone like me._

Alarm bells go off in his head. Where did that thought come from? Okay, sure, so maybe the enclosed places he has been with Pacifica for the last month has caused him to care about her even a little bit. Okay, that’s normal, right? It’s what usually happens with people who generally have emotions and feelings, so maybe it’s not _so_ bad.

Except that it _is_ . It is that bad because in the last couple of days no one has made him feel as comfortable as she has and that _scares_ him. He’s used to violence and pain, with how to handle things quickly and efficiently and here comes Pacifica with all her grace, charm and snide comments and just makes him feel _human_ again, in an entirely new manner that family can’t. Dipper Pines adores his family, he would give his life for them, but there’s a different sentiment to them. His family lets him know he’s alive; Pacifica makes him _feel_ it.

And somehow, that’s the only thought that echoes in his head as she asks him to take her home, but not before stopping by a liquor store and purchasing a bottle of whiskey. “ _Surprise_ ,” She says when they step inside the apartment and she abandons the bags on the table and walks up to him with the bottle in her hand. “Happy birthday, loser. We’re drinking to celebrate.”

It causes him to blink, all previous thoughts pressed both to high alert and slow descent. It’s a weird feeling. “How did you--”

“Mabel might or might have not texted me telling me about said birthday,” She replies cheekily, pouring two glasses. “Warned me that you wouldn’t mention it, so I ordered some pizza and thought we might just do something nice and quiet. What do you think?”

He should say _no thank you_ . He should go to his room and call Mabel and tell her not to interfere and to keep her nose out of… whatever _this_ was but he doesn’t. He doesn’t listen to any of the rational solutions his brain is throwing at him as he grins and takes one of the glasses and clinks it against hers. “Thank you,” He says, causing her to smile that small, soft smile of hers and drinking it back. “Happy 24th to me.”

 

* * *

 

They’re four glasses of whiskey and few pizza slices in when he does the dumb mistake of telling her he doesn’t know how to dance. “ _Ho--How_ do you not know how to dance?” She asks him and she’s buzzed, there’s no way around it. She nearly fell back several times and her blue eyes are kinda glassy but it’s not like he’s much better off.

Whiskey has always been a favorite of his, the warmth of the liquid swirling down his throat and in his stomach gives him a nice sensation, one that’s rather floating and freeing. It helps that since Pacifica was on the who bought it, this was a whiskey old enough to order it’s own and it’s easily one of the best thing he’s ever drank in his life. The rich life of it gives it a special tang and weirdly enough got to his brain  lot faster. “I don’t know, Paz,” He answers, a little slurred on his words but as confident as he could. “Never seemed necessary.”

“So knowing how to punch and kick is necessary, I guess, for _your_ professional line of work,” She says, leaning on all fours on the couch towards him, plucking a strand of hair that was stuck on his forehead and placing it back, revealing his birthmark. “But when you’re at Northwest party or something, do you never dance?”

“The socializing is Mabel’s part,” He answers, leaning into her touch. Her fingers feel so good on his hair that if he were sober he’d be inching away right now. However, Dipper’s not capable of  saying no. “She’s better at it than me anyway. I just stand there and look scary.”

“You don’t scare me, Pines,” She replies a bit too fast as she sits down closer to him, not taking her hand off his hair but instead raking her nails through his scalp. He sucks his lip on a hiss but doesn’t tell her to stop. From this short distance he can feel the heat off her skin and her whiskey scented breath on his arm. “You’re softer than you look.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” He laughs softly, putting his index finger on his lips. “I have a reputation to maintain.”

“Big, scary Dipper Pines,” She says dramatically, running her thumb on his forehead while her fingers were still laced in his hair. “I assume this is how you got your nickname.”

His cheeks heat up and he’s just _now_ noticing how close she is to him. “Yeah,” He manages to reply somehow. “My mom was the one who came up with it but Mabel was the one who made it stick. And it’s my name, I prefer it over my real name anyway.”

“What _is_ your real name?”

He gives her a once over look and he tries analyzing her-- or as much as you can analyze someone in a drunken-buzzed state. Her hair is loose and long down her back, she has an arm propped on the couch while her hand is still on his head and the other holding her half empty whiskey glass. “Not telling you,” He responds, watching her smile. “It's kinda boring anyway, I like Dipper better.”

“Me too,” Pacifica says as she slowly untangles her hand from his hair and he tries not to whine as she makes a way to get off the couch. “Come on, Pines. I’m teaching you how to dance.”

“I don’t think you can stand up,” Dipper laughs, helping her up, a hand on her hip for more time than it was necessary. He stands up and nearly wobbles the same way she did. “I don’t think _I_ can stand up.”

“You’re not getting out of it _that_ easily,” She says, leaning over the radio that was under the DVD player and turning it on to some random pop station. [A song comes on and it’s bouncy, it sounds like how summer feels ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NXtLryriWeM)and it’s chorus one that makes her smile up at him, her blonde tresses serving as some sort of veil on her face. “Come on, we’re dancing to anything.”

And for a while, he wouldn’t call what they were doing _dancing_ . There was a weird pull of arms as she tried giving a spin, nearly falling on her face if she hadn’t stopped herself. There’s jumping that makes his head spin and the alcohol in his system shake up a bit more than usual. It’s fun, and it feels like he hasn’t had that in  while. The way she looks at him is hypnotizing, her smirk infectious as she motions him to come closer, shimming her chest towards him as he does back and _god_ , they must look like idiots. Her laughter is louder than the song itself and he doesn’t mind as he twists her back against him and they both do a sort of walking motion he’s almost sure is from _The Breakfast Club_.

The song ends abruptly and they both still pressed against each other laugh. His laugh is directly in her ear and she leans her head back at his shoulder and looks up at him. After the announcers sponsor something or another, [a song plays and it’s slow melodic pianos come surging up as a voice slowly hums, violins kicking in](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O4uD6o9XxLs). “This isn’t the type of music that plays at the parties,” Pacifica says turning around and placing one of his hands on her hip, taking the other in her hand and placing it up high. “But I can teach you to dance with this one.”

He doesn’t fight the urge because when she starts moving this time, it’s soft. There aren’t as many pulls and tugs involved and she’s leading him in what can be considered a waltz. When she says ‘ _Go left_ ,’ He does, and when she says _‘Twirl_ ,’ He obeys, slowly twirling her with the rhythm of the music. She softly sings under her breath the lyrics and he’s not sure if it’s the alcohol in their system or if it’s the way she seemed to be more focused on him than anything else but he feels incredibly confident and another type of emotion that’s foreign to him.

“Dip me slowly,” Pacifica instructs him, and he does, slowly dipping her in a low stature, hand on the small of her back, the other softly slipping up the back of her thigh, the jeans she wore giving him a small friction on his hands. Her cheeks heat up, a small hitch of breath is heard but she doesn’t comment as he takes her back up, the music reaching it’s full crescendo. “That was good.” She says, and she’s out of breath and he wants to ask her why, if it was the alcohol or the excessive movement or o _h, please god, let it me be, let it be me the one who made you feel like that_ but he doesn’t get a moment to say anything as she loses her balance and they both fall back to the couch, Pacifica sitting right on his lap.

And this is the single moment in time where his inner monologue is split into two, Pacifica again runs a hand through his hair and as her other arm rests to his side, leaning on the couch. His hand is on her back as the other holds the back of her head and he needs to run. He needs to evacuate the premises as soon as possible because he is tethering on uncharted territory which he knows is only filled with chaos and danger and he can’t. He _can’t_.

But she’s looking at him and her mouth is open in small O as her cheeks have a faint blush to them. Her blue eyes are half lidded and glassy and she looks so gorgeous he needs to imprint this image into his brain. No one has ever looked at him like _that_ and he wants to touch, he wants to lean over and taste and see if she’s as heavenly as she looks.

The announcers loudly announcing a new product snaps him out of his drunken trance (and makes him realize, _hey she’s not in all her senses either_ ) and coughs awkwardly. “I think,” He says and when had his voice gotten raspy? “We should call it a night. It’s two am and tomorrow’s a busy day.”

She pouts but doesn’t say anything as she crawls off of him, the weight of her immediately being missed as soon as she’s standing and he sighs. She turns the radio off and the apartment is suddenly too quiet, too vacant as she takes the empty glasses and bottles and places them on the table. “Clean those up tomorrow,” He hears her mutter under her breath as he takes the pizza box and manages to fit it inside the refrigerator. “Night, Dipper,” She mumbles before walking down the small hallway and closing the door of her room.

He leans his head against the refrigerator door and sighs. “Night, Pacifica.”

 

* * *

 

The next morning she wakes up with a savage, earth pounding headache. “Fuck,” Is the first thing that’s out of her mouth as she sits up and rubs her head. She remembers vague parts of the night before, but just the overall feeling of happy surrounding her.

Which was strange in it of itself because the last time she had drank as much as she did last night,was when she was profoundly sad. But now, as pieces and parts clicked all together, she remembers drinking because they were celebrating Dipper’s birthday and she actually had fun. She tries not to think if she had too much fun when she remembers the vague sensation of Dipper’s hand running up her thigh and blushes. “Okay,” She says to herself, standing up and making her way to brush her teeth. “Better to not think of that then.” _We were drunk_ , she continues the thought in her head. _Doesn’t necessary mean anything, right? You two had fun, that’s all. Today back to business._

And she dreads it as soon as she walks out of the room and is greeted by the smell of bacon and coffee. One of the best things about having this particular bodyguard around was that he always made breakfast. Of course it adds to the fact that she can’t cook to save her own life but _still_. “Morning,” She says in a low voice as she walks in and sits by the breakfast bar. “My head is killing me.”

“You woke up hungover too, huh?” He sends her a smile over his shoulder as he points to a glass of water and aspirin to her side, while he finished cooking. “Me too, took one of those a while ago and felt better. You should too.”

She takes the advice to heart and quickly does as suggested. The cold water a good, a refreshing rush to her head that she was desperately needed. “ _So_ ,” She says, still rubbing the side of her head as Dipper hands her a plate of food. “What’s on the agenda today?”

“Got a call from your father this morning,” He says and she rolls her eyes. Of course _this_ is what she had to face. “He wants you to go up to the manor and revise some of the party planning for next month's event. How many of these do you have?”

“Usually two every summer,” She answers, taking a sip of her coffee. “The first one apparently was for my arrival, and the other got pushed back just so I could be involved. Guess their motive this time is impressing someone, almost all of them are.”

She doesn’t really pay much attention to these lavish events the few times she’s been around before, it was a way for her parents to get the upper hand above others. “Well, Ford, Stan and Mabel will be there ‘cause apparently, since we’re directly involved in this one we all have to be there.” Dipper says, taking a bite of him omelette. “I’m not looking forward to seeing your dad.”

“Oh trust me,” She adds, taking a bite of her own food. “Me neither.”

 

* * *

 

The entire table is silent when Preston comes into the room and Pacifica resents him for it. There’s something about her father’s presence that has always made her associates uncomfortable, and she was happening to have a very pleasant conversation with Mabel when he came in. “Pines. Pacifica, darling, welcome. I’m sorry I’m late, I had certain things to attend to.”

“It’s okay, Preston,” Ford says in a calm manner. “We’re just happy to help.”

Pacifica isn’t sure how sincere that statement is considering that according to Dipper _none_ of the Pines are particularly fond of the Northwests outside of business relations but if she were to be completely honest at the moment, she didn’t care much for them either. “We just wanna give you all the heads up,” Stan says, voice cutting through the attention placed on her father and back at him. There’s something about him that seems bigger than life, and she can easily see where Dipper gets the more confident side of his personality from. Stan oozes charisma and charm, two things that the her father conveniently lacked and is probably one of the many reasons he keeps Stan around. “Got a call from a friend, told me there was a detective snooping around, looking for intel.”

Dipper sits up straight in the seat in front to her, which causes her look at him. There’s a small moment of unspoken communication that goes between them where their eyes convey all they need to know towards each other; they’ve gotten good at nonverbal communication in the last couple of weeks. “What do you suggest we do?” He asks, breaking his eye contact with her and redirecting his attention to his uncle.

If Stan noticed anything, he doesn’t point it out. “Dipper, you and I are paying a visit to the Wainwright brothers, see what they know about the situation,” He says. “I’m sure Mabel won’t object to having to having to spend some time with Pacifica, wouldn’t you sweetie?”

“None at all.” Mabel says, leaning on her chair with an affirmative tone.

“Good, now,” Ford commences his presentation, taking a file out of his case and presenting it to all of them. “This is all we know for now, her name is Detective Karen Wade and she was sent to investigate the trafficking coming from our side of the town. Apparently it’s become a much bigger operation since someone appears to be selling some of our product in unregistered areas, causing our monetary value to drip. What we need to do is dispose of these loose ends and keep our activity to a minimum in the city, at least until the detective is called back.”

“Which means we keep our noses to the ground while she runs around in circles,” Stan repeats in layman's terms. “Preston, your job is to just pretend to know nothing about this. Pay the cops to keep quiet and extend the invitation to the detective to next month’s party. Get her off our backs, maybe even meet her.”

She looks at Dipper, trying to see him in his element and she’s surprised to see he’s stoic. His sole focus seeming to be directed towards what was being said, on making sure it was all executed perfectly. Preston clears his throat, causing her to look at him. “Can do.” He answers with a clap of his hands. “Pacifica, darling,” He says, suddenly placing all eyes on her. “Your mother and I need you to attend Cecilia's birthday party, Monica will not stop nagging her ear about it and rumor tells us some of the youngsters there might know a thing or two about the new route the product is taking,” He says, now placing his attention on Dipper. “I’m sure your _bodyguard_ would be interested in that.”

The way he focused on placing emphasis on the word he specifically chose to refer to Dipper as feels like ash in her mouth and by the looks of Dipper’s defiant stare, he didn’t appreciate it either. “I’ll only be focused on that if Stan asks me to, other than that my main focus is Miss Northwest.” He sits a bit more upright, elbows on the table. “As it _always_ has.”

“You know what,” Stan interjects and Pacifica would thank him profoundly for it for the rest of her life. She doesn’t want to even think of whatever it is her father was implying but she knows _exactly_ what Dipper was. “Dipper, you go with her and keep an eye on anything that looks different, but other than that don’t proceed. Do your job and stay on course.”

“Yes sir.” Dipper replies, the tension in his shoulder still present but slowly releasing itself from him when he looks over at Pacifica.

“Well, you’re all dismissed now.” Stan says as they all start standing up, Stan calling Dipper back.

Before he does, he takes a moment to walk towards her first. “Mabel will take care of you,” He comments, trying to sound as professional as he could in a room full of other people, a  moment when they weren’t alone. “If she acts out of hand you let me know.”

“ _Oh please_ ,” Mabel interrupts, throwing an arm Pacifica in a playful manner which causes her to like her already. She’s been meaning to spend more time with the female Pines twin anyway. “I’m _way_ more fun than you are.”

Pacifica laughs softly and rolls her eyes. “Go, I’ll be fine,” She comments and his hard eyes turn a bit softer. She hopes she’s the only one that noticed. “I’ll see you later.”

And when Dipper nods and turns around, she’s faced with Mabel looking at her with a Cheshire cat-like grin. _No_ , she thinks. _Apparently I wasn’t the only one._

 

* * *

 

Mabel gives a loud and rather obnoxious wolf whistle when she enters the apartment and it suddenly feels so strange _not_ having Dipper around that it confounds her. “Nice place,” Mabel says, studying the clear door that leads to the small balcony. “I hope Wendy and I get a place this nice.”

“Oh,” Pacifica says,  bit embarrassed. “I can’t believe I haven’t said anything, but congratulations on getting engaged.”

Mabel smiles wide and the difference between the twins is striking, although they were physically similar, Mabel was more open and inviting from the get go, Dipper was one to slowly open up through time. “Thanks, although I think I’m the one who should be congratulating _you_ ,” Mabel grins and this was the moment Pacifica had been dreading. “You’re the first person in a while that has gotten my brother to act like an actual human being.”

“What are you talking about?” Pacifica laughs nervously as Mabel walks to the table and _shit_ , they had forgotten to put away the whiskey and glasses of the night before. Mabel takes the bottle and quirks an eyebrow at her, causing Pacifica to blush. “It was just his birthday gift. You were the one to tell me anyway.”

“I told you to congratulate him, not spoil him,” She chuckles, studying the bottle. “Wow, this whiskey is the good kind too, _damn_.”

If the ground were to swallow her up right now, she’d gladly accept her place among the mud and dirt. “Mabel, look--”

“Shh,” Mabel hushes, winking at her. “So you have a crush on my brother, big whoop. I won’t tell anyone. I’m  just saying, be careful. I don’t appreciate Preston throwing him creepy voodoo eyes.”

The comment manages to get a giggle out of her. It was sweet, the way this family looked out after each other. It was such a far away idea to her and yet seeing it on all of them seemed… _natural_ . Besides, it’s not like she _had_ a crush on Dipper, right? Sure, she had nearly begged for it the night before but she wasn’t thinking properly and she let her surface thoughts get the better of her. Dipper was an attractive guy, much to her chagrin, so could you blame her?

The heiress notices too much time has been spent in silence and Mabel looks at her with the biggest grin on her face, as if she was right. Pacifica looks way. “Look, just, I don’t know, okay? It’s not anything like that.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” She scoffs, placing the bottle down. “Now do you have some Netflix or something we can do to kill time? Knowing Stan and Dipper they’ll be away for a while.”

Nodding, Pacifica hands her the remote control as she takes seat on the couch, Mabel comfortably plopping next to her. “Play whatever you’d like,” She says as Mabel starts scrolling. “We’re only watching _Breaking Bad_ so anything comedy right now sounds really good.”

“We?”

“Oh, _shut up_.”

 

* * *

 

Mabel turns out to be much more pleasant company than she expected, and they talk about many things, ranging from her engagement to Wendy to future plans they had set up for themselves and she finds herself legitimately enjoying her company, which was why when Mabel tells her she received a message saying Dipper was on his way back, there was a sense of disappointment lingering in her. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?” Mabel says, as they say goodbye by the doorway.

“You have my phone number, so just let me know.” Pacifica replies, surprised when Mabel hugs her back. Pacifica hugs back.

As soon as Mabel leaves,  she starts getting ready for bed when she hears the front door open. “Dipper,” She greets, closing her silky pink bathrobe and walking down the hallway. “I got some--” Her sentence is cut short by the state of Dipper’s… well, _everything_.

He’s bloody, there’s cuts and scars everywhere and his knuckles are bruised and bloody. “ _Paz_ ,” He says in half a surprise, a bit embarrassed to be caught in his current state. “I-- _uh_ , it got a bit out of hand, but we took care of it.” His suit is ruined, but he must be in good enough condition to come back home and not be currently hauled up in Soos’ medical office. She walks closer and touches his arm, to which he winces in pain but doesn’t make a sound. “Yeah, sorry I look like this.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” She says under her breath, slowly pulling him to her room. They make it into her bathroom without much as a sound of protest as Pacifica instructs him to sit on her toilet seat, which he does. _He must be really fucked up to not even fight me._ She thinks, opening her medicine cabinet and looking for the cleaning alcohol and antibiotics, she has a gauze somewhere here too. “Take your shirt off.” She demands, taking the proper utensils out of her mirror.

She hears him chuckle and a ruffling of clothes before he speaks. “You just want a free show,” She hears him say, finally dropping the bloodied white button up on the floor and there’s a part of her that’s relieved that it wasn’t _his_ blood.

“You telling me you’re willing to give me one, Pines?” She replies with a small grin of her own as she observes the scars on the back of his right shoulder. It’s eerie, the way there are so many placed there, old and new. She takes a small towel from the dash and gently washes it with alcohol, softly wiping clean the part of his back where he does have a few open cuts. Nothing particularly big, though and even with small winces, he manages to make it through without much other noise. When she finally finishes cleaning his back up, she wraps the gauze from under his arm up his left shoulder.

“I’m willing to make an exception for you,” He teases back as he lowers his arm, Pacifica’s eyes quickly being draw to his knuckles. She sits by a footstool she keeps close (so she can reach the top part of her closet) and takes his hands into hers, wiping them clean and placing antibiotic cream on them. “How do you know how to do this?” He asks in a low tone of voice, as if he’s afraid of the answer.

“It isn’t rocket science, Dipper,” She replies quickly, trying to make humor of what otherwise would be an unpleasant answer. She looks up at his brown eyes and realizes he doesn’t feel like joking around. Sighing, she answers. “Everytime I misbehaved when I was little I used to get a new bruise on me. Kinda made it a joke about collecting them until the swirls of purple and black looked like a galaxy.” She finishes as memories of a youth that grew up too fast surfaced. They didn’t hurt as much as they did before, as she had learned to cope with them over the years.

Dipper, however, seemed _furious_. The hands that were spread on hers suddenly coiled into fists. “Did they ever--” He starts, anger boiling in his brown eyes.

Pacifica places her hands on his, smoothing them open once again. “It’s okay,” She says softly, bandaging his fists. “It’s over now. They haven’t done anything like that since then.”

“They _never_ should have,” He nearly spit out in vile hatred, but doesn’t let go of her hands as she finishes. “You don’t deserve that; no child does.”

Her head can’t help but snap up and look at him, the way his voice sounded so raw and sincere _touched_ her. Pacifica wasn’t keen on sharing this part of her life with anyone, but since Dipper already knows how horrible her parents are, one more fact shouldn't be any different. “Thank you,” She replies softly, low in her throat as she kisses one of his knuckles. “Get some rest. We’ll take it slow tomorrow.” 

Dipper smiles softly and stands up. He looks so out of place compared to the soft colors of her bathroom. So big, and lanky, and yet he’s awkward, it’s so incredibly Dipper that she can’t help but find it charming in his own way. She just _now_ noticed the tattooed right arm he has filled with weird symbols and vines, something probably associated with the supernatural element of his job. “Thank _you_ ,” He says,running his thumb on her knuckles. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

She nods, watching him walk out of her room, a new feeling curling in her stomach. It’s not a strict necessity of just _wanting_ Dipper Pines anymore, it evolved, transformed into something much bigger and much, _much_ more terrifying.

 

* * *

 

When it’s finally time to go to the party they had to keep an eye on, Pacifica didn’t seem too thrilled with the idea and he doesn’t blame her. "It's one of those parties where rich socialites gather and talk shit behind each other's back," She offers as an explanation to her distaste as Dipper took a bite out of an apple. "If I don't go, mother's going to nag me to death, so I might as well show my face." 

"Where is it?" He asks, watching her angrily march to her closet and take a dress out. “And do I have to dress up?”  
  
"Tonight, and at the club up town, and yes you probably should." She groans, slamming the door shut of her room, and he hears shuffling, which meant she was probably getting ready. He grimaces and tries not to shrug in disgust at the thought of his current situation.

Crowded, dark places filled with people had never been his _thing_ , but he's almost sure Pacifica isn't going to ask to stay much longer than necessary either, seeing as how when he changes into a simple buttoned down gray sleeved shirt and pants, she comes out in a dark sequined short dress, her hair up in a high ponytail and red, red lips. "Other than what you need to do, we're only staying for a while and then we're leaving." She says, tugging at her short dress. 

Dipper pretends not to notice. "Okay, you tell me when we leave and we do."   
  
Pacifica grins, taking her small carry on purse. "You're so efficient, I like that about you."   
  
"I aim to please," He replies chuckling, taking the keys and shutting the door behind them.   


* * *

  
As soon as Pacifica takes a step into the club, she already wants to run away. She grabs the first drink she sees a waiter walk by and nearly drowns it in one go. "Easy there," Dipper says in her ear, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I'm not carrying you out of here."   
  
"I hate these people," She says bitterly, clutching what she now knows was a champagne glass. "I need something in my system to not be _completely_ mean towards them." She says, pointing at the group of people in the left of the club. He doesn’t like the look of any of them but they seem harmless enough.

“I’m going to give a quick rundown of the place, stay around them,” Dipper instructs, Pacifica nodding as she steps closer to the group. He checks with her one more time, making sure she’s integrated among them before he heads off.

And for about an hour, nothing seems suspicious. There are young adults everywhere drinking and grinding, passing along substance that he recognizes as theirs and as long as it isn’t any outside containment it’s done, his job was only that, keeping an eye on it all. He even walked in on them snorting some in the bathroom and he can’t say he’s the least bit surprised.

He kept taking drinks during the run around, a glass of champagne here, a shot of scotch there. He doesn’t want to attract unnecessary attention and if doing all of these inane acts will get him to blend in, well screw it. He just makes sure to pace himself since he also needs to be on guard when he comes back to Pacifica. He finds her among the crowd and she’s trying to tell someone that _no_ , she does _not_ want to dance with them when she catches his eye. “Sorry, guys,” She says, quickly referring to the group of people she was trying to get away from. “My _boyfriend’s_ here.” 

The low lights in the club makes everything sparkle under the dark, the booming of the base making the walls shake and as much as he hates the uncomfortable environment of smoky air and low rooms, he can’t help the allure of watching her tempt him towards her, pulling at him from the center of the heavily crowded, dirty dance floor with her fingers.

And he does, he walks up to her, snaking himself around the crowd all the while telling himself that he’s allowing himself to be under the delusion that he is actually something to her, other than what his job implies. “Yes?” He asks, voice low on her ear and he feels her arms circle around his neck and there’s a vague sensation that he should get out as fast as possible.   
  
He doesn’t. “Take me home,” She says and she leans into him, body pressed against his and she feels so, _so_ good. “Now, Dipper.”   
  
And maybe it’s the alcohol in his blood or the way her breath smells like sparkling champagne that makes him forget that this is a _bad_ idea, but he places a hand on her lower back and tries not to bite his lower lip as she looks up at him with a mischievous light in her eyes. “Whatever you say.” He answers, following her out the back door of the club.   
  
“Yeah,” She huffs, tilting her chin up in that very rich girl manner he had grown accustomed to. “Whatever _I_ say.”

 

* * *

 

Dipper has pushed the night of his birthday to the back of his mind so far and has done such a terrible job at it that even a week later, he still has it freshly imprinted in his mind. It surely doesn’t help that Pacifica seems overall different around him; she’s friendlier, she’s kinder, all the while never missing the beat and wit that made her _Pacifica_ and it was getting harder and harder for Dipper to ignore whatever it was that was churning in his chest whenever she would get too close or speak too soft.

Not to mention that on their way home in the taxicab, she kept running her fingers on his hair, causing him to groan low in his throat. The alcohol in him kicks in again because he feels too hot in the damn car and she keeps toying with him, touching him and he doesn’t have it in him to say no once again.  Because the tricky thing about all of this is that he _wants_ her, he’s been feeling something towards her for while and it hasn’t been able to smother itself away, no matter how much he tries to not pay attention to it. “ _Pacifica_ ,” He says in a rasped voice and he can’t remember when the taxi had left them and up they went, heading towards their apartment. She doesn’t say anything as she opens the door and barges in, still holding his hand and directing them to her room.

“I had a great time tonight,” She says, her back stiff against the door, hand on the knob. He can’t tell whether she’s lying or not, knowing for  fact that she didn’t want to go there to begin with but the way she bites her lower lip and looks at him means trouble and he’s drunk enough to try. “Want to stay at mine tonight?”

And Dipper has never had something so close yet so far away than how he did in _this_ moment, Pacifica willingly inviting him inside. She looks so good that he wants to, he wants to go into her room and have her against her mattress and make her moan, to see if she tastes as good as he thinks she does, if her breathless tone of voice is just as seductive as her normal voice, because fact of the matter is Dipper _wants_ her, and usually when he wanted something, there was no one getting in his way.

However in this situation, _everything_ was in his way, so with an enormous fit of strength, he leans away, already missing her touch as soon as it isn’t on his skin. “We’re drunk, Paz,” He says, watching her frown, just like she did the night of his birthday. “Let’s go to sleep.”

She looks like she wants to put up a fight, but for some reason decides not to. Northwests don’t beg after all. “ _Fine_ ,” She responds, opening the door to her room anyway. “ _Goodnight_.”

And with the biggest challenge to his titanium will, the door shuts in front of him, leaving him to sigh both in relief and frustration, leaving his forehead against her door. “Good night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I give you guys the promised dipcifica <3
> 
> Comments & Kudos are appreciated!


	3. silent call for you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awwww yeeeees! More dipcifica! Last chapter will be up next week although I am debaitng on wheter or not to expand it. All depending on how the ending goes.

They don’t talk about what happened that night the next day, or the day after that because they chalk it up as simple mistakes, simple  _ drunken  _ mistakes. They both ignore it as they keep stealing glances at each other when they’re out, when they sit together watching TV and they’re too close, when one of them says something witty and insightful and the other replies back just as well. They don’t talk about it because they can’t, because as they hit closer and closer to the invisible clock that threatens to cut their time together ( _ they had never discussed how long he’ll be staying _ ) and just decide to enjoy what they can the only way they allow themselves too. 

 

* * *

  
“Living with you for two months has been the longest test of patience I've ever had," Pacifica complains as she shuffles around the room, looking for a lost necklace.    
  
Dipper looks at her from the door frame with his arms crossed and can't help but laugh. "Elaborate please, because I am an absolute delight."    
  
Good that she hadn't been blessed with any supernatural abilities or else those laser eyes of hers would murder him. "You leave your shit everywhere! I thought bodyguards were suppose to feel like they aren't even here."    
  
"You keep forgetting that I'm not used to being a bodyguard," He says, pointing at where her lost necklace was, which had been left on the table. She rolls her eyes and snatches it, putting it on as fast as she could. "What are you late for anyway? I'm supposed to be informed of where you're going, you know."    
  
"I'm not used to having a bodyguard, Pines," She says in the same manner she would address a snotty rich associate of hers. In the days, weeks,  _ months  _ that he had lived with her, he had learned to point out the signs and determine when it was appropriate to push her buttons. Not that he always paid attention but still, it's the thought that counts, right? "I'm meeting Mother to plan the party. We need to get through the invitation list before sending them out."    
  
"You know, I'm always a bit shocked when you address them as  _ 'Mother'  _ and  _ 'Father' _ ," He says, taking her things and offering them to her, she takes the bag and coat from him in a scoff. "But that's none of my business."    
  
"At least you got something right," She replies, adjusting her coat. "Now let's go before she sends in the cavalry."

 

* * *

 

 

Thankfully, her mother had chosen a brunch café to discuss the guest list, so Pacifica wouldn't have to step into the mansion. She'd be touched if her mother at least had the decency to fake it under the guise that she cared for her daughter, but of course it was only to show her off to the other socialites and botoxed harpies in the club. "Darling," Priscilla greeted and Pacifica had to fight the urge to turn around and run, which she might have if it hadn't been for Dipper behind her and what felt like a hundred pair of eagle eyes watching her as she stepped into the room.   
  
"Mother," She says. "It's good to see you." She lies through her teeth, smiling a smile that could win her awards as she kisses her mother's cheek and sits down, trying not to let the overcrowding crystals and chandeliers on the ceiling overwhelm her. This place was abhorrently boring and she remembers despising being here as a child, but as time will tell, she wasn't twelve anymore. "How is the list going?"   
  
"We have wonderful guests so far, dear," Priscilla offers, suddenly hunching towards her daughter, causing her to hunch forward. "Would you mind sending Pines away for a while? Your father wants me to discuss some details with you in private." Arching a brow, Pacifica nods and stands up, going up to Dipper.  
  
"You're lucky," She says, keeping her hand gestures steady, if she so much as hints at the fact that they're less casual than suggested, her mother will spend the entire hour pestering her. "Go and have a day out, rekindle with your family. We have enough security here as it is." And they did, Priscilla having the gall to buy the entire restaurant for the evening and only letting in a select few as to not draw attention to herself, guards were posted at every door and some outside at every corner.   
  
"You want to get rid of me that bad or does my peasant status offend her?"   
  
Pacifica resists the urge to laugh. "It probably has something to do with the invitation list, and she knows your family is competing against the Gleefuls for territory so it might have something to do with that."   
  
His tone shifts, from playful to something entirely different. "And you're telling me this instead of keeping it to yourself because...?"   
  
"Because I don't care," She shrugs. "Besides, if I can ruin their plans, the better. Consider it your raise."  
  
He grins again and she hopes her mother didn't catch that, or else there will be hell to pay, she's still not completely used to the fact that he makes her insides shift. "You treat me so good." He does a look around the room before deciding it looks safe enough. "Call me to get you."   
  
"Of course, and if I don't call you in an hour, please come save me," She says dramatically, a hand to her chest. "There's only enough of this I can stomach."   
  
"Roger that," He nods, walking away and Pacifica looks at how her mother looks at him, a distaste to her features. She shrugs it off and takes a deep breath before going back to the table, doing her duty as a rich man's daughter, nails digging into the palm of her hands and all.

 

* * *

 

 

When he gets to the warehouse Ford had told him Stan would be at, he parks the ol' truck close enough and took a step inside. He definitely didn't expect the room to be low on light and smell like sulfur and acid. "What the hell are you doing here?" Stan asks when he sees him, wiping his bloody knuckles dry with a towel. Safe to say that wasn't _his_ blood. "Aren't you suppose to be watching to Northwest girl?"   
  
"She's the reason I'm here," Dipper says as he takes his coat off and pulls up his sleeves. "Pacifica and her mother were just going over the invitations and the Gleefuls are invited. At the top table. Right next to us."   
  
Stan sighs and adjusts his glasses. "Fuck," He groans, sitting on the shitty desk that he had insisted on bringing in here. "First Manolo gets caught trafficking blow by that snooping detective and now you bring me this shit," He unwraps the bandages from his wrist and Dipper has a vague sensation of where this is going. "I got someone in the back, you mind taking care of it for me?"   
  
Dipper nods and doesn't ask questions yet, not as long as he hasn't seen the person's face yet. That’s what made him good t this; he didn’t prod when it wasn’t necessary; he awaited instructions. He takes off his button down shirt and stays in his white undershirt, flexing his knuckles. "Is that why the Gleefuls are sweeping in?"   
  
"Yeah, white haired bastards took control of south of the state when we weren't looking. Soon they'll have all Oregon if we don't do something about it, Northwest is capable of shifting loyalties pretty quickly, just as long as he's safe," He says, walking Dipper down the hall. "It probably doesn't help that you're eye-fucking his daughter any chance you get."   
  
His heart nearly stops. "What are you--"   
  
"Please," He scoffs, turning around to face his nephew. "You think I didn't notice it, kid? Gotta hand it to you, she's pretty but I can't stress this enough, Dipper; _don't touch her_."   
  
"I'm not," He says, because what else is there? He hasn't touched her, and he's been working his goddamn hardest not to. Pacifica’s been a force to reckon with not only because she was gorgeous but… he can’t think about this now.  "I won't. I'm not a moron, Stan."   
  
"Never called you one," He says, turning the knob of the door to reveal a far off muffling sound. "Hell, she looks at you like she's going to jump you at any second."   
  
" _Grunkle Stan_."  
  
"All I'm saying is stay sharp and keep your focus on what's important, which is the family," He says, directing his entire attention on Dipper. "Unless you want me to talk to her, I suggest you take control of the situation."   
  
"I will." He says and they seem to leave it at that. Stan walks him up to man hog tied to a chair, which is what he suspected in the first place and not an entirely new scenario. "And this is?"  
  
"Our little friend here is Derek Reynolds," Stan says, as the other man in question spat at their shoes. "He's one of the men deep in Bud and Gideon's pockets _and_ he's also their dirty player."   
  
Dipper takes one look at this man and he can read him completely; young man, about mid thirties, tattoos galore on his entire body that seem to only be rivaled by scars. He could hear the sob story already; Derek Reynolds, after tired of coming in and out of prison more than the cops themselves did comes into contact with a nice salary working for the nice looking Gleefuls as their bad guy. "So what," Dipper starts, directing his gaze to the man who seemed to be bleeding, an amused tint to his eyes that usually causes the people they question to rile up. "You got bored out of being someone's plaything in prison so you decided that keeping your ass covered was better than that?"   
  
" _Fuck you,_ " Reynolds spits out, blood spattering itself all over his white shirt. _Touched a nerve there._ He thinks to himself, smirking back. "This is what you bring me?" Reynolds asks, question directed to Stan but eyes still looking back to him. "I'm supposed to be intimidated by this piece of shit? I'm disappointed, Pines."   
  
"Let me ease that for you then," Dipper says before socking him in the jaw. The man groans as he manages to look back up, more bloodied than now than how he was seconds ago. "Now, I learned _that_ left hook from him, but I got some few tricks of my own if you're interested in seeing them."   
  
This was where he felt he belonged, on the underbelly of the town, dealing with scum like him. Dipper isn't naive, besides all the things he assumed about Reynolds, he had given a look to the files on Stan's desk before, one of them for the wanted felon Martin Kelly, to which this man barred a striking resemblance to. Wanted for charges of rape and murder, it's no surprise the Gleefuls would want someone like that on their team, one willing to do anything in exchange for green. "You ain't shit."   
  
Dipper punches him, again and again, until his face is more red than anything else but leaving his mouth and throat clear, they need those for information. "Hard to crack." Dipper comments, stretching his hand. "Guess we'll have to go dramatic." He says before he searches for the handmade shiv he keeps around for hard cases like these. And suddenly the fear on the man's face grew more noticeable, eyes widened. "Oh yeah, this brings back memories, doesn't it?" Dipper says with a cruel grin on his face, throwing a wild guess in the air. "Where did they stab you that you didn't die?" He traces the shiv to the man's rib. "Here but they didn't press enough to finish the job?" Dipper traces the metal to his arm. "Or here to make you remember?" He places the shiv right in the center of his chest. "I think here should be fine, it won't kill you immediately, but all the same, I don't think this is the ending you wanted, isn't that right?"   
  
Dipper has to hand it to the man, as much as his eyes give away, his body stays perfectly still. "What do you lunatics want?"   
  
"Oh, so _now_ you're co-operating?" Stan rolls his eyes and says as he steps beside Dipper, leaning over. "Tell us what you know about Cipher."   
  
There's an ugly laugh that nearly coughs itself out of the man. "That weird looking asshole? I don't know shit," Dipper presses the shiv just enough to scare him. "Look, all I know is that he's the one who's really pulling the strings. The Gleefuls are nothing without him."   
  
"You gotta know more, Reynolds," Stan affirms, signaling Dipper to move. He does and goes directly to his back, the shiv pressing against his neck. "Spill before my nephew over there gets trigger happy."   
  
"You're hilarious." Dipper says deadpan but doesn't move. He will do it if Stan says to, it's  what he's been trained for. _Protect the family_ , that's been the number one regard and concern since day one.  
  
"Cipher's the one with the real money," He says. "It's all I know. I'm on the bottom of the pyramid, you stupid fuck. I don't get a say in much of anything that goes around but what I do now is that the guy's a freak and he's probably got something to do with the freaky supernatural shit that goes on in this town too."   
  
Stan nods at Dipper, which is a sign for him to let go. Stan must be feeling generous today if he's letting him get away with all of his limbs and fingers. "One of my associates is going to pick you up and drop you off as far as fucking possible away from here, you don't speak _shit_ about this or I'm sending a freaky ghost after you, you got it?"  
  
The man nods as Robbie, Nate and Lee all step in, preparing to take the man away. Dipper watches them all in a normal process, take the man, shuffle him out, no questions asked. Stan hands him a piece of a ripped up towel as he wipes the blood off of him, quickly running his hands down the sink on the end of the room. "You should go back to the girl, we don't want her parents getting noisy either," Stan says, offering Dipper his shirt and suit jacket before heading out. "And remember, keep your hands to yourself."   
  
"I will," Dipper replies, a bit annoyed that he had to be reminded. "Promise.

 

* * *

 

 

“Pacifica,” Her mother says, causing her to look up from her almond soup with some other delicacy she hadn’t cared to ask for. “How does the Pines boy treat you?”

She’s been dreading this conversation, the one that would inevitably come no matter how much she had tried to avoid. “He’s fine. A bit talkative, but that’s a nice change of pace.” She answers carefully, and that’s about all she’s willing to offer. Alarm bells go off in her head, knowing she can't give anything else away.

“Are you positive that’s all?” Her mother asks, and there’s that tone of voice, the one where her mother practices all her charm school finesse and instead of sounding inviting and warm, she sounds cold and distant. “Because there’s an interesting article going around through  _ Dash  _ magazine and I’m not a fan,” She grimaces, taking a magazine and placing it on the floor, opening to a page where it displayed a photo of her being escorted out of the dance club with Dipper, one hand holding hers and the other placed on the small of her back. It was titled  _ NORTHWEST’S NEW BEAU? _ And even with that ridiculous title, Pacifica was relieved. His face was only half seen and his distinctive birthmark had been covered by his hair, all in all, the photograph didn’t appear too intimate. Which was exactly what she had wanted to avoid.

“He’s my bodyguard,” Pacifica answers, her chin up and taking a sip of her drink. Now the scenery had switched and now Pacifica had to channel all of her charm school knowledge into not giving anything away. “He’s supposed to escort me out of places. Mother, please. These haughty gossip magazines always stretch the truth. Remember when they said Hilda Northington had a vacation home in the Bahamas but she was actually next door?”

“Oh my, yes,” Priscilla answers, laughing distastefully behind her hand. “And it had turned out to be her sister borrowing the house to cheat on her husband, the scandal!.” She takes a sip of her morning mimosa and sighs, turning the magazine close. “But still, darling. Keep your chin up and alert, we don’t want these filthy people tarnishing our reputation.”

That sentence sounds like shit to her because Pacifica isn’t sure of if that was directed at the magazine columnists or at the Pines family themselves, but she doesn't ask; she doesn’t want to know the answer.

The door chimes open, the bell making her cringe in custom but she slowly softens her exterior when she hears Dipper conversing with another one of the men guarding at the door. “Will that be all that you require of me, mother?”

“Yes,” Priscilla says, leaning down and snatching from her big purse a small box. “This is for you, from your father. He instructed me to give it to you and for you to look at it,” Her gaze slowly moves to Dipper and her eyes squint, then move back to her. “ _ Alone _ .”

It takes everything in Pacifica’s power to maintain composed at that unsubtle gesture of distaste towards Dipper as she nods and pretends she never noticed it. “Alright, good afternoon then.”

And just on cue, Dipper appeared beside her, holding her jacket for her, she notices his bruised knuckles but doesn’t comment on them. “Ready to go, Miss Northwest?” There’s something about the way he calls her that, addressed her that way when they’re out in public that brings a bolt of adrenaline through her body.  _ Miss Northwest. _ It sounds so professional, so foreign that it nearly seems too far away from her own reality; the reality of their situation, where’s he’s called her by name or nickname and that knowledge belongs to her and  _ only  _ her is thrilling.

“Yes,” She responds, making a show of Dipper helping her put her coat on, taking the magazine with her. Pacifica has never said she didn’t found pleasure in making her mother suffer, or at least that’s what she think she’s expressing-- it gets harder to tell every year with the numerous adjustments to her face. “Good day.”

Before Priscilla could reply, Pacifica was already turning around, Dipper close behind her to secure the perimeters as she exits the place, already feeling the difference between the fall sun on her skin and the refrigerated area she had been held before. The door chimes behind her and Dipper nearly coughs, having the decency at at least wait until they got in the car to laugh. “What’s so funny?”

“I think your mother tried to emote.” He responds and she rolls her eyes but she’s smiling too.

 

* * *

 

 

“A box?” Dipper asks as they make it back to apartment, Pacifica insisting she didn’t have anywhere else to go today. “What kind of message is delivered through a box that isn’t a severed limb?” 

“Is this from experience or are you confusing your life with a movie again?” She answers cheekily, taking the box and sitting on the couch. “Besides, they told me to look at this alone, which obviously means I need you to sit down and look at this with me.”

“It’s the small things, right?” He replies grinning as he sits down. She takes off her shoes and hitches her legs up the couch, crossing them indian style before placing the box on her lap. “If it  _ is _ a severed limb, I have some ways to get rid of it, you know.”

She looks at him with a skeptical look, but there’s laughter to her eyes. They twinkle shine and bright and it takes all of his power to maintain himself composed. “You’re an idiot,” She says with no real harm in it as she opens the box and is actually greeted with a bunch of letters and a box. She takes it in her hands and opens it and is revealed to have a diamond ring.

She goes quiet and that’s  _ never  _ a good sign. There’s an gold envelope that she opens and reads quietly, her eyes scanning the paper at lighting speed and it kills Dipper to look at her so far away. When she finishes reading it, she throws the box against the wall, the shine in her eyes before turning into fury. “ _ No _ ,” Is all she offers and she takes the rest of the letters and starts tearing them up in a fury, one after the other, all at once, whatever she could get her hands on.

And Dipper leans over and holds her by the wrists and she’s furious, her cheeks are red, her eyebrows are furrowed and her teeth are gritted against each other. “ _ Pacifica _ ,” He says, using the tone of voice Stan had used on him and Mabel when they would get upset, to snap her out of her trance. “What is it?”   

“I don’t want to do it,” She says and there’s no context to it for him, but she’s so angry it’s actually jarring to him. “They don’t  _ control  _ me anymore.”

There’s an effect that takes place on her voice, a tremor that goes unspoken but he can see it shift, the way her body feels hot to the touch. “Nobody controls you,” He reassures her, holding her still, as if he could contain a hurricane. “Tell me what’s happening.”

She looks at him and those big blue eyes are drawing him in again. The way the raw power from her slowly descends into a more calming state, the breathing in her body coming back to normal from the huffs of breath that had nearly been forced into her body. “They want me to get married.”

And he doesn’t have to guess who they refer to. When she had uttered  _ control _ , he thought she was referring to ghosts of a past long behind but this was the monster that still lurked, and it made him feel hollow.  _ Married _ ? There’s a flutter of emotion slashing against his chest but he tries to push it down, using the only way he can. “ _ Married _ ? What is this, patriarchal England?”

She doesn’t find his attempt humorous and to be completely honest, neither did he. “I always told them to be careful with what they did with the money and now they want  _ me  _ to pay for the consequences,” She says and she sounds so defeated that she leans back on the couch. Dipper want to reassuringly touch her, to let her know it’s okay but he doesn’t move.  _ Keep your hands to yourself.  _ “Father’s financial state and income is on rocky grounds and they want to marry me off to some other wealthy family to stay afloat.” It’s nearly cynical, the way she utters the words. “Like I’m some fucking mare they could just pair up with the best stallion.”

“That’s  _ bullshit _ ,” He utters and it sounds so much more asydic than it should. “What the fuck is wrong with them?” He says, but he doesn’t need it answered. Preston and Priscilla had never been his favorite people and right now as he looks at their daughter trying to compose the anger inside of her, he hates them as much as he could hate anyone. Their daughter was one of the best people Dipper had ever met and how fucking dare they treat her as if she’s merely a pawn?

There’s a deep breath that’s taken, and he looks to his left and sees Pacifica stand up, taking what was left of the box and the smaller one with the ring from the floor. “Do you mind making dinner?” She asks and she sounds so exhausted. “I’m just… going to calm down for a bit.”

He nods and leaves it at that, the best she could do now is take some time for herself, so when she leaves and he maintains himself busy with making the food, there’s a moment of strained quiet in the apartment they shared. When the sky outside grows darker she finally emerges from her room and they eat dinner quietly, neither of them wanting to address the unspoken.

 

* * *

 

 

She's finishing up in the kitchen when it happens, one of the dishes she's holding drops to the floor and her hands start shaking. "Oh no," She says, taking a step back and trying to control her breathing. It was a mistake, opening that box, it had been a mistake looking through the content and it had definitely been a mistake pushing it all down; the feelings, the emotions, the pain and misery and backlash, all of them getting to her one by one, slowly collecting themselves one on top of the other until they toppled over the wall she kept around herself.    
  
Her heartbeat accelerates and it feels so out of her control that she has to slowly descend to the floor, away from the broken plate as she collected her thoughts.  _ They can't hurt you anymore, _ the rational part of her brain starts kicking in, the way she's trained herself to think.  _ He's not here. You're not in that house anymore.  _ __   
  
That awful house with its big columns and ugly paintings, with its disgustingly big chandelier and completely unnecessary showcases of wealth. She shoves her head between her knees, slowly hugging herself to feel some sense of safety. This way, she can feel every nerve in her body kick into high gear and it terrifies her, unshed tears start brimming up in her eyes as she once again tries and fails to control her breathing.    
  
" _ Paz _ ," She hears Dipper's voice as he steps over the plate and rushes to her side, and he's so warm, he's so solid and real that it's the type of anchor she needed to make sure that she was here. "You're okay, you're safe, you're  okay." He keeps repeating as he places his arms around her softly, and she's not sure whether it's his voice, or his manner, or just the way he's holding her, but it works. It keeps her steady and still, there's a serenity that slowly replaces every spiked vein in her body until she's just crying softly at his chest, all the while his head is resting atop hers, his hand running up and down her arm. "It's okay."    
  
And she  _ believes  _ him. Because it's been so long since anyone's seen her like this, let alone tried to be there and support her that she believes him. Dipper, pain in the ass he might be, is dedicated and loyal and smart and she believes him when she says that she's going to be okay because at the moment no one else would. "Thank you," She manages, trying to wipe her mascara stained cheek clean with her hand.    
  
He nods and hands her a nearby kitchen towel. "Don't mention it," He says, as she takes the offering. "Why don't you go to the bathroom and make yourself comfortable while I take care of this mess, alright?" She wants to protest but the sudden weight on her shoulders feels so heavy that all she does is nod, slowly standing back up and tip toeing around the plate.    
  
When she gets to the bathroom, she turns on the light and is faced with her own reflection in the medicine cabinet's mirror. She's a  __ disaster , hair a mess, make up running down her face and her eyes rimmed red. How long had she been holding that in? She takes a deep breath a she runs a hand through her hair, clipping it up. She takes all her clothes off and proceeds to step into the shower, she turns the knob right and let's the warm water calm her, always a refreshing and smooth sensation on her when she had moments like this. Taking the soap, she scrubs it across her arms and is relieved to find that she doesn't feel like an earthquake anymore. Trying to recollect the last time it happened but it seemed futile and instead she chose to quit it, there was no use dwelling on the past anyway. The important thing was that she made it through it and that it had passed. Upon finishing, she pushes the curtain away and steps out, quickly clothing herself in a pair of long pajama bottoms and a simple shirt.    
  
Stepping out of the bathroom, she finds Dipper in her room, standing by the edge of her bed. He seems more calm too, he's changed into his own sleep wear too and he's holding the goddamn box in his hands. "Thought you might want to get rid of this but I wanted to ask you first," He says, stepping up and handing it to her.    
  
She doesn't take it. "Burn it," She says, before passing by him and sitting down on her mattress. "All of it." He nods as he puts the box away and looks at her. She knows what he's doing, he's wondering whether he should leave or stay. At least he's not tip toeing around her which was a relief; no need for pity. "How did you know?"   
  
"What?"    
  
"How did you know how to handle it?"    
  
He sighs and sits beside her, not close enough to touch but  the sensation hovers around them. "Mabel and I... When you're in this line of work, you don't get to just walk away easily." And somehow it's enough. Pacifica doesn't need to hear more, she's aware of the Pines more ambiguous ties in the town but she doesn't deem them relevant to the conversation. Besides, it's not like she could judge; the Northwests had enough blood on their hands as it was.   
  
"Thank you," She repeats herself because somehow it doesn't feel like enough, the first time she did it. "You should record that, you know. I don't say this often."    
  
He chuckles and it's so good to hear it, it's so good to feel that all of this is real and that some semblance of normality is established. "I imagine you don't." He responds, no real malice to his voice. "Go to sleep, Pacifica. I'll be on the other side if you need me."    
  
With a nod, he stands up and walks away, Pacifica now convinced that yes, okay, there was no point in hiding it now, she may or may not be in love with her bodyguard.

 

* * *

 

 

She seems more composed the next day, emerging from the room and into the kitchen already showered and dressed. He was in the middle of making breakfast when she sat by the island and groaned. “Good morning to you too,” He chuckles under his breath. “Want coffee?”

“Please,” She answers, taking the coffee he had been drinking from and making it hers. “This looks good.”

“Cheater,” He huffs out in a laugh as he pours the fresh pot into another mug. “If you don’t like your coffee scalding hot in the first place, why even drink it?”

“I don’t tell you how to live your life,” She answers, taking an apple from the fruit bowl in the center. “Besides, I have something to show you so shut your trap.”

“Bossy,” He says, sitting opposite her on the counter. “What’s so important that you stole my coffee from me?”

“Shut up, Casanova,” She comments as she places an open magazine on the table, his eyes scanning the page and hearing his heartbeat quicken.  _ Oh _ . He thinks.  _ What Stan noticed makes sense now.  _ “Look at this.”

And he is and it’s hard not to, a page of him and Pacifica walking out of the club the other night, incredibly stupid statements written on left and right in bold, big white letters and that’s excluding the small text to the side. “Oh,” He says, because there’s really no other expression he could muster.

Pacifica laughs loud and it’s not exactly an ugly laughter, but it’s not a sincere laughter. “Yeah.”

“Well, I am your bodyguard,” He says, closing the magazine. He can’t stand to see the picture, because there’s something that’s shockingly clear now, and he needs to erase immediately. “I’m suppose to walk you out of places, even if I’m close to you.”

“Apparently it’s  _ gossip-worthy _ close,” She says, her laughter dying down. She crosses her arms and leans back on the chair as she takes another sip of her coffee. “What do you think?”

“About what?”

She stares at him and he feels like he’s standing on quicksand. He’s never thought less of Pacifica Northwest but he never thought she might figure him out. “ _ Dipper _ .”

And he stands up, he stands up and walks away because they can’t talk about this. They can’t acknowledge it because as soon as it’s pointed out, it’ll be nearly impossible to escape. How was he going to explain that he was genuinely starting to feel something towards her than were more than friendly intentions? How was he suppose to say? “I think it’s time Mabel watched over you.”

“ _ What _ ?” She exclaims, placing the mug down on the table with a loud thud. “Dipper, look at me.”

“I’m serious, Pacifica,” He says and he’s still not looking at her. He can’t. “Tonight at the party, I’m asking Mabel to take my place.”

“Don’t you think that’s more suspicious, you idiot,” She retorts and he doesn’t give her the time to argue. She does anyway. “That you suddenly switched because we--”

“ _ No _ ,” He says and he does look at her. “Don’t say it.”

She stays quiet, mulling over the words in her head. He hates it, he hates the fact that he actually feels bad about it, the way she’s looking at him with a mixture of anger and sadness, that she apparently feels the same way when she used the term  _ we--  _ and he has to cut it. He has to cut the tie, it’s affecting his work, it’s affecting his family.  _ Family comes first. Blood is thicker than water.  _ “I’m not going to let that happen,” Pacifica says, and she sounds so confident and sure that it actually terrifies him.

Because as much as he loathes to admit it, as much as he can try and fail to escape it, Pacifica has a hold over him that’s out of his reach. The confidence in her stride, the pride on her chest, the way she would hum softly when she cleaned the dishes or the way she would emerge some days with her hair in a mess but a witty comment always at hand. He was in love with Pacifica and he couldn’t do shit about it except walk away from it. “I know you won’t.”

 

* * *

She's going to murder him.

  
In any normal situation by any other hot blooded person in this universe who has rational thoughts and emotions, this wouldn't be a problem. Pacifica Northwest strutting about the apartment in a long, flowing, rather see-through bathrobe with lilac lining and purple edges on the sleeves practically begging for attention in a way that she doesn't need to say words should not be a problem.    
  
But Dipper's life is on the line, and he can't afford to let his gaze linger even for a second. He knows how to recognize the signs of someone trying to seduce him and they've been hell to maintain as far away from him as possible. "Dipper," She says as she emerges from the room and into the small living room they've managed to make their way around. "Do you know where my earrings are?" She asks, leaning over to the coffee table, to which Dipper gets a very nice view of her curves from the kitchen island. He's not sure if she's doing this on purpose or if she's genuinely looking for her lost item.    
  
"Which ones?" He asks, not taking his eyes of the book he was pretending to read. Some mystery thriller Mabel gave him years ago, the battered copy currently being nearly gripped to death as he read the same sentence over and over again. "Diamonds or hoops?"    
  
"Diamonds," She replies, stretching up and walking towards the TV set, standing on her tiptoes to look behind it. "The party starts in less than an hour and they're the only ones that go with my mint dress."    
  
He tries suppressing a grin and of course fails miserably, good thing she was currently occupied with looking behind the blu-Ray disc player. Dipper knows exactly where those diamond earrings are, they're sitting high and mighty in one of the jewelry boxes she had forgotten to unpack a few months ago and probably still has  buried in one of the closets somewhere, of course he's not telling her that at the moment.    
  
Let the record show that he's never said he's  _ not  _ a selfish man.    
  
"Goddamnit," She sighs, stretching down and sitting by the couch, sighing as she runs her hands through her wet, blonde hair and Dipper gives himself the chance to look at her back. It's smooth, the lacy fabric of the bathrobe making swirls and patterns of her skin as her breath causes it to raise and fall in a slow rhythm.    
  
He's not going to sit still and tell you he hasn't thought of going up to her and giving her what she wants. That he hasn't daydreamed about separating her lips by slowly placing his thumb on her chin and finally kissing her, imagining the soft noise she would make, the surprise that comes before the taking. He's wondered if she's the type to wrap her arms around his neck or his waist. He shakes his head, taking the moment to clear his thoughts. He has a job to do, and it definitely wasn't this.   
  
"Did you check the boxes we forgot to unpack?" He finally offers, looking up from the yellowed pages to her, who had turned her head to look at him. "I think there's one in the hallway closet."    
  
She doesn't say anything as she rushed up the couch and down the hallway, the rattling sound of her opening the door and rummaging through the boxes loud and clear. "Found them," She says nearly in triumph as he looks at her as she puts them on. She stands up to look at him, putting her hair behind her ears. "How do they look?"    
  
_ I want to eat you, _ He thinks, keeping a straight face. _ I want to take you into your room and taste you until all you can do it breath loudly and say my name. _ "They look nice," He replies, checking his watch. "Do you think we're still on time?"   
  
"Yeah, they don't need me to host so I can afford to come a little bit later than usual," She says, going back into her room. She doesn't lock it any more, now knowing that’s it’s a clear invitation for him to come in. He does, but purely out of measures to provide for his job, that's all. "It's formal, so you can wear that bow tie you can never put on right."    
  
He chuckles but doesn't say anything else as he heads to his room, looking for the suit and tie she's referring to. He doesn't close the door either since two could play at that game. If he was going to be stuck in a tension filled apartment with her what he hopes is only tonight, he might as well try to have some fun.   
  
Changing into his suit, he walks into the room while he's buttoning up his shirt. "I need help with this," He says referring to his tie, only to walk in on her finishing to put on her dress, she looks at him through the mirror.    
  
"Zip me up?" She asks playfully as she refers to the zipper on her dress. He walks up to her and takes the zipper between his index finger and his thumb, the long, smooth sliver of skin he can see looks ready to the touch, he bites his lower lip and sighs, slowly zipping it back up. She lets out a breath as well, slow and long. "Thank you," She says in a hushed breath, turning around and taking his bowtie and properly applying it. "I can't believe you still don't know how to do this yourself."    
  
The string of sentences that was currently formulating themselves in his brain were a bad idea, but as Dipper most often does in his life, he goes with his gut instinct and will be ready to face the consequences later. "I'm not one of those rich boys you're used to associating yourself with," He says, and his tone is lower than intended but it's too late to stop now, especially she isn't looking at him. He wants her to look at him. "I'm dirty and low, from the bad part of town where they don't teach us to tie knots, so forgive my Neanderthal  manners, but I think you'll find me more entertaining than the rest of your party." And she's finally looking at him, cheeks reddened and her eyes somewhere between intrigued and angry. He doesn't know how to read her, and that scares him. He could usually read anybody.    
  
"You're more arrogant than you look, anyone ever tell you that?" She says, finishing off his tie and lingering there for just a second more before walking away from him. He takes a good look at her before they head out, long, blonde hair placed up in a bun with only a few curled strands sticking out and a strapless, mint colored dress that hung loose on her body.   
  
She picks up her silver purse and walks out the door, he follows behind her, a decision crystal clear on his mind.   


 

* * *

 

 

He excuses himself from Pacifica as soon as they arrive, seeing as how there seemed to be a handful of guards around. She nods and lets him go when he explains he's going to report back to Stan and the rest of them and when he finally does it takes all of his strength to not beg. "Mabel, take the job."  
  
"What?" Mabel asks, an arched brow and turning her head to him, Wendy comes right behind her with a grin on her face. Wendy's always been good at reading him just as well as Mabel could. "Why?"  
  
"Ah, man, I knew you'd crack," Wendy laughs, taking a sip of her champagne. "He wants to bang the rich kid."   
  
"Keep your voice down," He hisses through gritted teeth as he backs them away from Stan and Ford, no need to hear those dreaded four little words. "It's not... I mean-- not necessarily but--"   
  
"You do not have the hots for the boss' daughter, do you?" Mabel asks, halfway between amused and incredulous, which admittedly it seemed to be the same thing. He feels his cheeks heat up under their stares as he takes the nearest wine glass and chugs it down. "Oh god you _do_."   
  
It's not like he can explain to them that it's much more than that-- that's he's actually gotten to know her and care for her, that Pacifica has managed to get under his skin in a way that irritates him, keeps him on edge. That the little things she does, the big things she does, that _everything_ she does has gotten to him and -- _goddamnit this wine is not strong enough for this_. "Take. The. Job."   
  
"No can do, bro-bro," Mabel laughs, taking one of the hors d'oeuvre from a tray nearby them. "I'm busy, you know. Besides my wedding I've been researching the Gleefuls, unfortunately coming up blank but still. Stan wants me to relax before the wedding so tough luck."  
  
"Face it, Dipper," Wendy says, taking one of the appetizers and jamming it in her mouth. "You gotta ride those blue balls out. What else do you have, a month?"   
  
"Guys, it's not--" He takes a deep breath, calming himself down. "I'm serious."   
  
"Kids," Stan's voice suddenly cuts into their conversation and Dipper is relieved that he doesn't have to hear this anymore, it had been a shot in the dark anyway. However he does have to get back to that, he has to get away from Pacifica _somehow_. "I need you, all of you. Cipher's here."   
  
Mabel, Wendy and Dipper all assume position; calm, collected and poised. It was showtime and they had to clock in the best first impressions that they could. "Fill us in." Mabel asks.   
  
"Cipher has money, big bucks, he owns half of the state right now and is currently trying to buy Northwest out of this part of the town too." He says, gritting his teeth. "Reason ol' Sixer thought he sounded familiar is because he worked with him in college. From what Ford remembers, the guy is shady and sharp so keep up. They call him Chaos and personally, I'm not looking forward to see why."   
  
Dipper looks up and he manages to catch a quick look at all of them and for someone who studied with Ford, he looked _way_ too young. "Does he--"  
  
"Deal with the supernatural shit in this town?" Stan beats him to the punch. "Ford and I think he does, which is why he's been able to get the upper hand. We get rid of 'em but Cipher keeps calling them back." Stan walks them to the corner of the room where they had all situated themselves at and clears his throat. "Alright kids, put your faces on."   
  
They called him Chaos, and it must have been for a reason, and as cautious as Stan had been in securing their post as Gravity Falls’ number one kingpin, he had done all possible other than starting an all out war, but as Dipper looked at the man, all pompadour and no real back bone to him, he can’t help but smile in arrogance. _I’m not afraid of you._ He thinks, watching the man converse with Preston Northwest, and as much hate that crawls up his spine with the knowledge of what he’s done to his daughter, he can’t help but think with malicious intent. _I’m not afraid of you either._ _  
_  
"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Cipher," Mabel says in her own enchanting way, always having a better management of people than he ever had. She bats her eyelashes and smiles her performance smile, even Wendy looks somewhat pleased as she maintains a hand on Mabel's hips. Cipher seems to notice and instead of grunting in distaste like many people at these ceremonies did at Mabel and Wendy's relationship, he smiled.  
  
It unnerved him, this wasn't the smile of a kind man, it wasn't the smile of a ruthless man either, it was some new strange creature somewhere in between; unreadable-- therefore unpredictable. "Pleasure to meet you as well, Miss Pines, Miss Corduroy." He nods his head, turning his view to Dipper and the man was unsettling. Dipper's seen maniacs like this before, nuts that want new territory, but he's never seen one on the top, though, handling and wielding real money like it was goddamn candy. "You must the other set of the Pines twins."   
  
"Dipper," He says, firm and steady, taking the hand that the man had offered him. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance."   
  
Dipper's done things, terrible things in his line of work, in order to keep the family safe,  keep them up top. Mabel charms the people, Ford keeps their heads above water and he does the dirty work, all being done under Stan's supervision and guidance and Dipper's made peace with it. But this man, there's something in his posture, in the way he carries himself ever since he walked into the room that's unlike anyone else in this mansion. He's buying out the competition, Dipper thinks, connecting all the dots. The fact that the Gleefuls had suddenly acquired territory, Stan's men and women getting caught in areas where he doesn't have the police on his side, the detective snooping around. And we're next. "Pleasure's all mine."  
  
"Mr. Cipher," Stan interrupts, separating Dipper from the man, sending his nephew a look. "I think the boy has some other things to worry about, so why don't we get Bud and talk business?"   
  
"I like your style, direct and straightforward," Cipher laughs, clapping a hand on Stan's back like he's been a friend for years. "Let's talk business."   
  
"Let it go," Mabel says and only then is when Dipper realizes he's been clenching his glass of wine as they all watched the three fighting men walk into the nearest balcony. "Grunkle Stan can take care of himself."  
  
"Besides," Wendy says stepping in and chuckling in her throat. "I think you have bigger things to worry about right now."   
  
Dipper's about to ask her what the hell she's implying by that before hearing the scene. "No thank you," He hears Pacifica's voice in a familiar venomous tone. "I have to go."   
  
There's an older man with her, about three times her age, seems like one of her father's old business allies, who keeps following her around. "It's only one dance, doll."   
  
"I'm not your doll," She answers, looking away. Dipper's eyebrows furrow before downing what was left of his wine. "Excuse me," He says to Wendy and Mabel before marching his way down, beating the anger and frustration and even goddamn jealousy away before he makes it between them, all the imposing command he can muster rising up to its grace. "Is there a problem?"   
  
The man looks at him from shoes to head and Dipper can feel the judgement. It's not anything he's unused to, but given that fact it's not something he welcomes either. "No problem at all, Mr..."   
  
" _Pines_ ," He says, dry and harsh. "Now please, I believe the lady asked you to leave her alone."   
  
Huffing an in dignifying response, the man seem to get the gist of it. No need to cause a scene among the patrons. So with a scowl and a turn at his heel, he leaves.   
  
Pacifica crosses her arms and rolls her eyes. "I didn't need you."   
  
"I know."   
  
"I had that handled."   
  
"I know."   
  
"Then why did you butt in?"   
  
"Because old patriarchal assholes like him don't understand the word __no , and frankly I'm kind of disappointed I didn't get to beat the shit out of him," He says, the commanding tone smoothing itself away by her presence. A song starts, it's slow and moving, people start heading towards the dance floor and he gets an idea. It might be the only chance to get to speak to her alone before the night ends so he takes the chance. "So," He says, offering his arm. "May I have this dance?"   
  
Her crossed arms undo themselves softly until one of her hands is on her hip and the other fixes one of her loose strands of hair. "As long as you don't step on my feet," She laughs softly, wrapping one of her arms in his, "I guess I could give you a pity dance."   
  
"Lucky me." 

 

* * *

 

 

The detective pulls up to the party and is greeted by her anonymous tipper’s best host; limousine, fine wine, sparkling dress and all. Karen can’t say she’s been treated like this before ( _ she hasn’t _ ) but there’s no need for her patron to know that. 

Her anonymous tipper had referred to himself as Chaos and had requested her presence at the Northwest’s party that night and if this was any indication of getting closer to the Pines, well, she was willing to put on a pretty dress and all. Walking into the grand place, she’s floored by the high architecture and lovely facade of the place. Fancy mansion for such a small town, She thinks, taking a glass of champagne and walking around, looking for her host.

“Miss Wade,” A voice says behind her and she turns to see an older man, round and smiling. “Forgive my introduction, my name is Bud Gleeful, I’m here to escort you to our person of interest.”

She nods and takes his offered arm. Passing through the crowd had been made more manageable given the fact that most eyes had been directed to a young blonde woman who was being escorted by a young man to the dance floor, which had been alright with her. Karen had never liked tight places anyway. “Any way I should address him, Mr. Gleeful?”

The man laughs softly as people part their way, to either join in the dance or just because of the man’s presence she doesn’t know, but she is aware of how people seem to look up high when they pass by. “Mr. Cipher will probably prefer to be called Bill, but if I were you I’d wait for his indication.”

That statement was blank enough. She knows for a fact that her patron wasn’t the owner of the mansion, yet he commanded the same respect as the wealthy family did. “Understood.”

They pass through a curtained room to be greeted by a lavish looking balcony with a fancy table far off. A man sat at the end of it, blonde hair pushed back, olive skinned and gray eyed, the man had a off putting look in his eyes, one of those old world souls who flung money around like it was wads of paper. “Miss Wade!” He greets, standing up and walking up towards her, kissing her hand. “You look divine, please sit.” 

A servant comes by and takes her glass of champagne, offering her a new one as she sits down. “Thank you,” She answers, patting down her dress so it didn’t crunch. “Mr…”

“Cipher, but please, call me Bill,” He answers, just as Bud said he would. The Gleeful man sat opposite her, a small woman to his right, and a young man to his left. “Miss Wade, I assumed you met the Gleefuls?”

“Only Bud, Mr. Cipher.” She answers, preferring the formal approach anyway. It’s always been more comfortable that way.

“These are my wife and son, Grace and Gideon Gleeful,” He introduces them as the wife smiles at her and the young man offers a small curtsy. “The Northwests will be here shortly, Mr. Cipher. They’re entertaining the Pines at the moment.”

Bill’s laugh shakes her, it’s eerie and haunting, the sound of a mad man. But he’s the madman who will help her close this case so she’ll put up with it for now. “ _ Oh _ they’re entertaining them alright, did you see the way the kid and the girl keep eating each other up? Preston’s gonna have a field day.”

Karen is as lost as the night is dark, she wasn’t aware that the Pines were here, but if she’s been called in by these people, and they were talking about them in this manner, they must be no friends of hers. “We might as well get started,” Gideon suggests, laying out some files on the table. “Preston and Priscilla will agree anyway.”

“Gideon, Gideon, Gideon,” Bill tisks as he rests one of his elbows on the table. “All work and no play makes you a dull boy.” He takes a piece of the fruit arrangement placed in front of him and bites, a trail of the juice running down his chin. “However, you are right. Bud, inform the good detective of the good news.”

“Miss Wade,” He offers, taking one of the files placed by Gideon on the table. “We’d like to help you with the investigation on the Pines family, mainly Stanley Pines.”

Karen smiles cruelly, adapting to the environment around her. Closer and closer to the end, she could almost see the light. “Do you now?” She asks, taking a sip of her champagne. “I’m all ears.”

 

* * *

 

 

Pacifica can feel eyes are on them, she can feel them prickling at her skin as Dipper's hand feels firmly placed on her lower back but she doesn't care. She doesn't care that her father's staring at them both with the most unreadable expression on his face. She doesn't care that her mother's hand is currently placed on her mouth as if to hide a gasp. She doesn't care.    
  
"So, you know how to dance now?" She offers as a jab when [the music starts, and it's a soft piano melody](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ylcg4m8UUPs), he slowly starts moving to the music, the appropriate enough steps and didn't even step on her toes. "When did that change?"   
  
"I had a good teacher," He smirks, his eyes darting around the room. He's looking out for any more danger spots, any potential threats, when she squeezes his shoulder he looks back at her, eyes softening. "Besides, I thought you'd rather dance with a lowlife like me than any snot-nosed brat anyway."    
  
"You were right about that," She laughs softly and she feels all the eyes slowly drifting away as others take the dance floor, as they become one against a sea of many others and it's much more easy to relax against him. They're bodies aren't close but his hand feels so personal on her back that she can't help but press herself closer. "You're much more fun anyway."    
  
"You only want me cause you're bored," He says and she can't tell if he's joking or not. It suddenly feels too hot in this dress, the floor too crowded. "Because everyone else here bores you and because I know you," He twirls her softly and her heart races. This wasn't suppose to be happening, at least not now in a crowded area. "Because I’m something you've never had and you wanna see if this fire burns, don't you?" Her back is against his chest, as many of the dancers around them were, so his mouth was directly in her ear.    
  
"Nice to see you became a poet," She replies in a huffed fashion as he twirls him again so she facing him. "What makes you think you're that irresistible?"    
  
"I'm a lot of things, Pacifica, but an idiot isn't one of them," He replies, his hand pushing her against him, and she complies. "You and I both know this is as dangerous as it gets and that's why you-- we want it, which is why it needs to  _ stop _ ."    
  
He sounds so harsh, spitting out that last sentence like its bile. "You don't normally say someone to stop while igniting the fires, Dipper," She says, the violins kicking in in a slow rising manner, causing him to dip her. "The only reason you're not running your hand up my thigh right now is because they're watching us." And she's right, or at least she thinks she is by the way his gaze immediately shifts from her to his surroundings again. He dips her back up as the singer's voice grows higher, the music swelling to its climax. "Look at me."   
  
"No," He breathes out, taking one the last steps of the song, the dance they both had been skipping around for finally descending, the veil slowly uplifting itself from the stage. "Pacifica, it needs to stop."    
  
"Take me home," She says when the music reaches its end and based on how close they were, chest to chest, his heartbeat accelerates. "That's an order."    
  
And she can see the mechanics of his brain kicking in, the way he thinks a million things at a time and yet he's not processing any of them thoroughly. She takes one last sweep with her eyes across the room and realizes no one's looking at them anymore, she can't see where her parents are but it doesn't matter, all that matters is the way he's looking at her when he finished surveying the room, the way his brown eyes sparkle and he licks his lips, trying to say something. "Yes, ma'am," He replies, not really seeing a way out of it. She walks in front of him, feeling confident for the first time since she walked into this house and instructs him outside. She makes him ride in front of the limousine while she rides in the back so they don't have time to talk about it.    
  
She's doing this tonight even if it kills her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to leave comments & kudos which are incredibly appreciated & loved !!!!


	4. fire meets gasoline

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;; sorry this took so long! finals and college in general is currently Kicking My Ass but as promised, new crime au chapter!   
> ;; ended up being five chapters instead of four so you can all look forward to one more :D  
> ;; again, sorry this one is shorter than usual.

He doesn't manage to catch her before she steps into the apartment, and he's trying to put into a categorized file all the reasons why he should stop this  _ immediately _ , and as much as they bang and clank against his better judgement, he can't form the words in his mouth. "Pacifica," He tries, shutting the door behind him. She's taking her bracelets and necklace off, he can hear as she rattles them against the nearest available spaces, her shoes following as they nearly slide off her feet. "I don't... it's dangerous. I don't you  hurt." And his voice sounds so unlike him it's even hard for him to hear. She turns around, against the door of her room and she's looking up at him, wanting more explanations. "Doing... this...  _ whatever  _ this is. It could put you in danger. Ford, Stan, your father, not only them but.... their enemies, I don't want you in the middle of any of it."   
  
"I can take care of myself against them," She says and it's not the first he's heard of this. He steps closer to her and he's just now noticed the apartment is too dark, when he can't see her clearly anymore other than the vague outline of her that he can see in the slivers of light that crawl themselves into the room. "There's nothing you can do to me that hasn't been done," She utters in a low voice that obligates him to pull closer to her. It's a tactic. "At least not anything hurtful."    
  
And she sounds so hurt when she says this, voice low, eyes not looking directly at him but they're directed  at something and he wants to hurt someone. She traces her hands up her arms and a shiver comes down on her, the trace of invisible scars zig zag across her body, the ghosts of a tortured past, the faint promise of a broken future. The close distance between them grows more and more narrow and he can nearly feel the heat radiating off her skin. "Pacifica," He says, her name feeling foreign on his tongue but not completely unwelcomed, in fact, for the first time in awhile, it feels like the right thing. "I--"    
  
And she interrupts him by wrapping her arms around his neck, the gesture so unknown to him the words die on his throat. Her face leans closer but doesn't dare do more, for a few seconds, none of them do much but look at each other. He gets braver and runs a hand up her back, pulling her as close to her as possible. "Please," She says, and even though the word is a plea, the action being asked for, the tone, the way her eyes now do stare directly into his, it all clicks together. She's demanding him. " _ Dipper _ ."    
  
And it's his name on her tongue, the tilt of her voice that finally makes him brave enough to take the plunge as he leans forward and kisses her, a collation of mouths one against the other so smooth and timid at first it's jarring, but the slight noise on the back of her throat ignites something within him and Dipper pushes her against the door, the forbidden den of both his dreams and nightmares, and hears it rattle.    
  
She tastes like champagne and smells of roses, she feels like temptation and sounds like sin, and she's absolutely everything and anything he's ever wanted and all of what he can't --  _ shouldn't--  _ have.    
  
She jams the door open and they fall into the room, a clattering of movement and  excitement , the hitching of breaths, the sounds of their mouths touching and separating, small noises from the back of their throats echo in the room. "Paz," He says in effort to... _ something _ but failing entirely. Her hands nearly crawling at his front, unbuttoning his shirt, belt and whatever else she could. There's the entire glowing ember of consciousness that keeps telling him that he shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't be currently running his hands down the boss' daughter's back, slowly undoing zipper of her delicate gown. "I--We  _ shouldn't-- _ "    
  
"Don't talk," She breathes back, nearly shaking herself out of the top part of her gown, the rest of it pooling down her feet like a soft ring around her. She stares up at him in her sleeveless brassiere and her chest huffing up and down through lidded eyelids and reddened cheeks. There's a need inside of him to look away, to look anywhere else  _ but  _ her because he's accurately aware that as soon as he looks at her, it'll be past the point of no return. "Look at me." She says, as if she could read his mind and he does and the hunger he's been pushing down inside of him sprouts up, a warmth to his cheeks as he licks his chapped lips.    
  
" _ Fuck _ ," He breathes out, unable to resist and kissing her again, burning the image of her looking at him like that in his head. Still kissing her, he takes a step back as he undoes his suit jacket and shirt, leaving his chest bare. She suddenly rests her head on his shoulder and runs a hand down his tattooed arm, her fingertips following the patterns of swirls and textures. Dipper takes the opportunity and kisses her neck, gently holding the other side of it with one of his hands, he feels her fingers clench at his arms, then they release the tension, melting away the care as Pacifica herself gives into the kiss. His lips leave traces on her, gently placed pecks that send shivers down her spine. She leans back, giving him more access, a privilege she’s allowing him to have. His heart is pounding against his chest, wanting to claw itself out; it feels like a dream, nearly too good to be real, she has to be a figment of his imagination, if his imagination could produce something,  _ someone  _ so close to perfection that he feels unworthy touching. 

“You’re thinking too much,” He hears her say as she looks up at him and traces a hand down his chest, slowly sliding it down to his hand, leading him to her bed. She lies down first, her long legs bent for him to lay between them, crawling up to her as her hair nearly illuminates around her, the way it’s spread all around her pillow.  Dipper runs his hands down her thighs as he makes his way towards her, her skin rising up in goosebumps. Her breath hitches the same way it did so long ago on the night of his birthday and it’s the same pitch, low and the exhale takes a moment.

“You tell me to stop and I will,” Dipper says because he needs her to be sure of this, that they’re both about to go past the point of no return and that they’re walking in side by side. “Fucking kick me if you have to.”

A smile plays on her lips, the tension on her shoulders that he hadn’t noticed raised fell once again, sitting up and kissing him, bringing him back with her. He snakes his arms across her back, feeling the soft skin under his palms as one of her legs hitches up, Dipper runs his hand on the back of her thigh, hitching it up. “I’ll let you know.” Pacifica says against his lips as she starts undoing his belt and zipper.

It’s a level of eroticism he’s never experienced before; there’s a vast difference between touching and feeling someone you actually have feelings for because every graze feels addictive. Pacifica looks up at him with stars in her eyes as he manages to take off the remainder of his clothes, Pacifica following behind and removing all underwear from her body. His hand immediately grips her hip, feeling the skin hot to the touch against his palm. “You’re  _ beautiful _ ,” He says in a breath as he devours her neck, the small sounds that she makes just adding fuel to the flame. To the growing hunger growing inside of his chest just getting bigger and bigger as he tastes her, touches her;  _ worships  _ her.

Pacifica can’t help but feel elated, flying on the highest cloud available as she feels his rough, calloused hands on her skin, hands he has broken several times, hands she’s  _ healed _ . “ _ Dipper _ ,” She moans softly against his ear as he separates from her neck to look at her, his forehead against hers. “ _ Make-- just--I- _ -” There’s so much to say and it’s all colliding inside of her. Millions of strands of words escape her,  looking at him as she take one of his hands and places it on her right breast. “ _ Please _ .” She says, using the one word she can manage. Because as much as she’s been taught that Northwests don’t beg, she doesn’t see this as begging.

He gets the message, stealing one more kiss from her lips before he starts tracing down, soft pecks down her throat, between her breasts, down her navel and until he reaches to the center of her, holding her by her thighs and just caressing her inner thighs, slowly making his way to her. His hot breath nearly feels like too much, but she resists the urge to cry out.  _ No yet, _ She repeats to herself.  _ Not yet. _ Because what was the point to scream if you hadn’t touched the sun?

Closing his eyes, he leans forward and tastes and  _ that’s _ when she feels the shiver down her body. “ _ Ah-- _ ” Is the first noise that escapes her, instinctively arching her back towards him, one of her hands tangling his mop of hair and she feels on fire. Dipper tastes her like a starving man, every nook and crannie taken to him, every sigh and moan like a trophy, and she’s the closest he’s ever felt to heaven. “ _ Dipper _ .” His name on her lips in that manner is nicotine, makes his blood race, his heart thump.

The hand that wasn’t on his hair griped the sheet beside her, the soft linen slipping between her finger like a lifeline, slowly losing a grip on herself as tighten his hold on her thighs, pushing her closer and closer to him, as close as humanly possible. His body is completely flat on the mattress, all efforts and please going towards pleasing her. All his straight and focus directed to her. Pacifica wants to repay the favor, but Dipper won’t let her. He’s devouring her, and she’s blissfully helpless to speak, the overwhelming sensation of worship and pleasure all mixing into a dangerously addictive sensation. 

Her eyes closed in a complete trust, wanting to experience the sight of Dipper’s expansive back below her but being unable to resist the urge to give herself over completely. Battling the euphoria that threatened to exhaust her, she sat up, dragging one of her hand down his back, causing his breath to hitch on her. “Here,” She says in a broken voice, the voice of someone who struggled to breath. He looks up and gives her one last lick, looking at her, causing her cheeks to heat up.  _ No _ , She thinks in a mischievous smile.  _ I’m not done with you. _

Pacifica surprises him when she grabs him by the sides of his face and kisses him, and he taste so strange. She knows what she finds strange of this as she bites his lower lip in order for him to open his mouth for her, her tongue sliding in softly as she mounts him, the sides of her legs locking him in, not that he seemed to mind. One of Dipper’s hands run up her back, landing on the back of her neck as her traces his tongue on her teeth, a gasp locked between them as she takes the decision to position herself over him, still not quite there yet. His other hand found its way once again to her hip and instead of gripping, he’s placed it there, as if he was waiting instructions.

There’s sweat running down on both of them, the room had gotten so hot it was nearly impossible not to, but god the way he looked at her as if she held all that was precious in her hands, it kills her. There’s a unique feeling to this running through her brain, and she’s aware it’s both the sensuality and the euphoria of the moment cursing through her body but she looks back at him, blue eyes against soft brown ones, and she feels ready.

“ _ I love you. _ ” He says out of breath, a look in his eyes that says that he’s surprised as well that that sequence of words strung out of his mouth and formed the sentence, but it was over. It was said and he smiles a small smile, one that is genuine and honest, so so  _ honest _ that she finds that she  _ can’t  _ reply. She’s at a lost for words, her heartbeat at a million miles per hour.

“Lie down,” She replies because it’s the best course of action. Pacifica has never been good with words, but she’s good with gestures, when words are not enough she uses whatever it is at her disposal to demonstrate what she feels; and at the moment, she wants to give herself. He obeys her, lying down so his head is on the foot of the bed, Pacifica leans back and gives him one of her pillows because she wants him to  _ see  _ her. She wants him to know, to feel, to look at her while she does. Dipper gratefully takes the pillow and places it behind his head, still on the high of having the privilege of touching her. She sits on top of him and he can see her clearly, her long body on his, legs holding him to his sides and she’s a divinity. She’s every delicate and angelic metaphor he can think off, too good for him, too perfect.

And yet, as she positions herself on him, slowly sliding himself down on him, he feels the weight on the back of his head throw him back, taking everything in his power to keep still. Her comfort, her safety, her pleasure was his top priority. _ Jesus Christ _ , but she feels  incredible, the weight of her body beautifully accommodating his senses, his hands gripping her hips as he trembled. “ _ Dipper _ ,” She whispers, her voice broken between bits of pain and pleasure and before he can ask if she was alright, Pacifica leans over and kisses him. Her kiss is softer this time, not as much desperation or fire as the ones before but… it’s… he can’t find a way to describe it other than  _ holy _ .

 

A roll of hips starts, her body slowly gliding against his in slow, deep thrusts. There’s a growl in the back of his throat as he takes a deep breath through his nose, his back arching up just a bit, letting Pacifica know he’s ready to move as soon as she commands. “ _ Ah _ ,” He groans, his holy body flushing as he tries keeping it together, feeling Pacifica wrap around him in such a perfect way that it takes his entire strength to not push. She rides him slowly at first, a steady rhythm with her hands grabbing his shoulders as she pushes herself harder, faster on him. “ _ Pacifica _ .”

Her names sounds so powerful in his tone of voice, a sense of respect, a sense of want and need and pleasure and all of the knowledge that  _ she’s  _ the one making him feel like this is euphoric enough but as Dipper arcs his back and grips her hips, she throws her head back and moans. “More,” She demands, speeding up, pulling herself by her legs to thrust against him, wanting to chase after the high she keeps feeling coming and going as he enters her, perfectly gliding into her own body. Pacifica has had lovers before, both sexes and in other forms but never like  _ this,  _ never so intimate and pure and so charged that the tension could have been cut with a knife. Dipper knows her, Dipper has seen her at her worst and he’s still stayed, not merely cause of obligation but because he  _ wanted _ . She feels his hand reach up her back to remove the bra she still had on, letting both of her breasts fall free and to freely move and jump. He takes on of them into his hand and rolls the nipple with his thumb, causing her to throw her head back. “Ah-- _ Ah, _ ”

The hunger he’s kept locked away for so long resurfaces in a blaze of glory as he turns her over, pinning her against the mattress. She’s a goddess, hair spun of gold around her like a blanket, cheeks flushed red on a gaping mouth, eyes looking up at him, daring him,  _ demanding  _ him. “I love you,” He repeats, not out of necessity to hear it said back to him, but it's said as a clarity, that no matter what happens, that no matter the consequences of their actions now, he wasn’t going to back down. He was going to fight hell and back to keep her as long as she’ll have him. He’s still inside of her when he leans down and kisses her, slowly thrusting his body against hers in a slow, rocking sensation at first, making sure she’s comfortable enough. When he hears her mull under him he speeds up, his pattern increasing with each demand or moan Pacifica throws at him. Her nails start digging themselves on the skin of his back, which should hurt him, should  _ pain  _ him but he finds it challenging, a thrill shocking through him at the possibility of her  _ hurting  _ him, of clawing him up as  _ hers _ .

Pacifica’s legs wrap around his waist, wanting to keep him as close to her as possible. “ _ Dipper _ ,” She utters mid moan as she wraps her arms around his neck to keep him closer, their breaths mixing into one where he pressed his forehead against hers, and for a moment they are just looking at each other, feeling each other's presence in both physicality and essence. “I love you.” She repeats for the first time and the weight on her chest feels lifted, wanting to freely express this side of her, the one where she’s free to  _ do  _ what she wants, feel what she wants, love who she wants and not have to feel any shame about it, not have to hide it underneath charm school manners or blatant lies. She loves Dipper Pines and as he breathes life into her, she does the same back, kissing him and seeing constellations behind her eyelids, a million sparks in the dark as her body nearly convulses, feeling an extreme pleasure as she climaxes.

Her face as she comes is something he wants to preserve for the rest of his life, the bliss behind those half lidded eyes and that lazy smile as she looks at him as if he’s his hold world is world shaking. As she leans back, her legs keep tight around him, the unspoken message received. Don’t stop. So he continues, not that he has much to go either, when all he can  _ see  _ is Pacifica, when all he can  _ hear  _ is Pacifica, when all he can  _ smell  _ and  _ taste  _ and  _ feel  _ is PacificaPacificaPacifica he finds himself moaning into her neck as he comes, the heat of his body nearly radiating behind her as time slows down, a lover onto a lover.

After a heavy breath, Dipper looks up from her neck almost shyly and smiles at her, causing her to giggle back. “Will that be all, ma’am?” He asks cheekily, grinning at her and kissing her neck up to her cheek.

She can’t help the giggles that escape. “You’ve done good,” She says, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her forehead against his as he lies next to her, she settles to fall asleep on top of him. “But I’d like you to stay for the night.”

He smiles and makes himself comfortable, better to deal with… all of this in the morning. “I can do that.” He says, kissing her forehead as she softly closes her eyes, lulling herself to sleep on him.

 

* * *

The sun crawls across the bedroom as the warmth on his skin wakes him up groggily. He squints his eyes to notice that he’s definitely not in his room and tries sitting up before remembering,  _ feeling _ , Pacifica next to him. He smiles softly, the way she seems to be so immersed in sleep that he’s almost scared of moving. Her back is to him, exposing her long, slender figure to him and he has to resist smirking when he remembers  _ everything _ .

There is so much they need to talk about soon, where they are now, where they’re going, how are they going to hide this for now? She moves in her sleep, so he stays still, only hunching down to look for his discarded pants, fishing his phone out. 8:35am read his clock, he nods and places it on the desk lamp next to the bed.

“Good morning,” He hears her say as she turns around, the sheet wrapped around her as if he hadn’t seen anything the night before, he doesn’t tease her about it yet, too early in the morning for that. Besides, the way she looks at him, eyes half lidded and a lazy smile on her face makes him melt. “What time is it?”

“Too early,” He replies, leaning forward and kissing her forehead. “Go back to sleep, I’ll make breakfast.”

“Such a gentleman,” She replies, managing to wrap her arms around his neck and keeping him close. “But I’d rather you stay here for a while.”

Smirking, he rolls his eyes and looks at her. “Well, when you put it that way,” He replies, kissing the tip of her nose. He’s trying to preserve this as much as he can, as much as it's in his power because as soon as they leave this bed, this small sanctuary, they have to face the consequences of their actions and he just… Pacifica giggles underneath him and grabs him by his face and kissing him.  _ God, I’d walk through fire for you _ . “Pacifica, look--”

His phone rings, which is odd because it is too goddamn early. Pacifica urges him to take it. “No need to act like something’s changed,” She says, although she knows the truth, the fact that something has changed is big and they simply can’t ignore it. “Answer it just in case.”

He nods and lets her go, picking it up an annoyance and noticing it’s Mabel.  _ Mabel never calls this early. _ Swiping the green button, he quickly puts the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“ _ Grunkle’s Stan’s been arrested. _ ”

There’s no greeting, there’s no warning to the slap in the face that is that news, the cold reality of the situation hitting him like a ton of bricks. “ _ What _ ?” He asks a bit exasperated. Pacifica next to him looking at him confused and worried. He tries calming down, no need to worry her at the moment. “What happened?”

“Out of state police caught him,”Mabel explains, he hears sounds of shuffling in the background, Wendy and Ford arguing. “Ford says that they didn’t get any evidence on Wendy and me, but…” There’s a slight pause that makes him uneasy, a clenching feeling in his stomach. “Dipper, they’re coming after  _ you  _ next.”

There’s no point in hiding anything now, as soon as he was involved, he knew it would involve Pacifica now. He sits straight up and looks for his boxers. He’s always been aware of the possibility of this happening, it was a risk one took with the job. He makes a quick,l rash, hardly thought out decision in a nanosecond and even though it hurts him, it hurts him more than anything before, he plants his foot in the ground. “I’m securing the warehouse,” He says, which was code name for  _ I’m hiding all further evidence and leaving, just like Stan taught me. _

“No,”Mabel says quickly. “I knew you’d react quickly. Look, Ford is advising that you let yourself get caught. They’re going to be over at the apartment as soon as they check Stan in so just stay still and don’t fight. He’s trying to figure a way to get you both out of this.”

“What about Pacifica?”

“She’ll be fine,” Mabel reassures him. “She’s free to come to Wendy and me, although it’s dangerous.” He looks at Pacifica who even though her calm demeanor, he knows how to read her.  _ She’s worried. She’s confused. She wants you to explain what the fuck is going on.  _ “Although we think her parents are the ones who turned us in. Detective Wade was the one who took Stan into custody.”

“Okay,”He says, trying to swallow the vile in his throat as he slides his boxers and undershirt on. “Okay, got the plan. I’m sending her your way right now.” There seems to be no time in the world and even with that Mabel manages to choke out an  _ I love you, _ take care to her brother, it nearly breaks him as the dial dies.

“Dipper?” Pacifica’s voice breaks through the mold and he looks at her, sitting up the bed wearing the nearest shirt she could find. “ _ What’s happening _ ?”

There’s a million things he wants to say. _ I’m sorry.I never wanted this for you. You deserve better than this. I am so sorry. _ But there’s only one that he manages to say, with a heavy sigh he looks at her. “Stan’s been arrested,” He says, her response being a hand to her mouth in surprise. “And your parents turned us in.”

 

* * *

 

Pacifica looks at the doorway in fear. There’s nothing worse than feeling like a child again, scared, lonely and confused as you stared at a possible gateway, waiting for it to open to face the inevitable, the hate, the pain, the ugly the world has to share. She held herself together, wearing a light purple dress as she leaned against the counter, staring at the door.

Noise, although small, doesn’t seem to stop as Dipper moves from left to right in the apartment, getting rid of any evidence that could link Pacifica to anything, although she has assured him countless times that there’s nothing to be afraid of on her account-- that he should focus on himself. “Dipper,”She finally manages to say when he starts desperately to look through the living room. “ _ Please _ .”

And he looks at her like with so much remorse and sorrow on his face as he walks towards her and holds her hand, placing a small necklace on her hand. “I was going to give this to you on your birthday in November,” He says and by his wording an outsider might not guess the reality of their situation but Pacifica knows a broken voice when she hears it. She opens her palm and notices the necklace, glittering and small. “It’s not much but--”

  
“It’s perfect.” She answers, closing her fist again and looking at him. He leans forward, wrapping his hands around her waist,  kissing her deeply, Pacifica wrapping her arms around neck, pulling him  _ close _ , close enough to see if they become one, if they can’t be separated, he won’t go anywhere, right? 

“I am sorry,” He says, forehead against hers in contemplation, in shame. “You should have never been involved, I should have--”

" _D_ _on’t_ ,” She stops him, and he does. Passing a hand through his hair, she kisses him once again, quicker, more desperate when she hears banging on the door. “ _ POLICE. OPEN THE DOOR _ ” A voice screams, banging against the door. Pacifica ignores them over the shaking he feels on Dipper’s body. He’s scared, on whether it’s on losing her or going away she isn’t sure, but she puts on a brave face. For  _ him _ . “ _ I love you. _ ”

The door bangs open and it’s as if time slows down, every action taking course being experienced in painful slow motion, too many cops come in, one after the other as Dipper tilts her chin up and kisses her one more time, her arms still strong around him. They both feel the prying hands tearing them apart, Dipper hauled away by four guards. “ _ I love you, _ ” He manages to say before huffing as the guards obligate him to walk away, he acts like an animal separated by its pack. “I love you.” He repeats as an officer grabs him by the back of the head and makes him look away, but Pacifica hears it loud and clear, Pacifica hears it and it vibrates and shakes and echoes inside of her as the police officers confiscate Dipper’s belongings around her, all except the small trinket she holds in her hand, a small pendant, a rose on a silver chain.

She holds it in her fist as the last of the officers step away from the apartment, leaving her to make a decision. Taking a deep breath and holding herself together, she looks up high and puts her necklace on, making her way towards her new family’s home; she will  _ never  _ step foot in the Northwest manor again.

 

* * *

The police department is too bright, it’s damn lights nearly blind him as he steps in, cops hands still on him, hair mussed and more banged up than previously intended. He had trouble not resisting arrest as he was dragged away from Pacifica.

She looked at him with so much strength in her stance and serenity in her eyes that he couldn’t help but feel pride in that;  _ that’s  _ the woman who loves him, a lioness among sheep.

“Take him back,” The main chief says, not particularly looking at Dipper or the rest of the cops who had nearly climbed inside the department. His breath reeked of old coffee and stale doughnuts, or maybe that was just the ambiance around. “He and Pines have a minute to talk, then take them both out back to Chaos.”

_ Chaos _ .

Dipper grits his teeth as the policemen shuffle his feet to a stance, making walk down a nearly unlit hallway, the light creaking on and off, swinging from its place where it hung, barely about to fall out. The door opens and Stan is sitting on one side of the room, hands cuffed to the same chair he was placed on. “Hey kid,” He says as Dipper is seated in front of him, hands cuffed to his back just the same. “Seems like we got ourselves into a bit of trouble, huh?”

“Nothing we can’t handle,” Dipper replies with a smirk, the police telling them to pipe down. “So, what now?”

“Resisting arrest would have only made things worse,” Stan says, cocking his head to the side. “Ford’s figuring out a way to get us out of here, or at least making sure we only do small time. We have enough money for a bailout, but rather keep in the good graces on the department.”

“What about the town?”

“That’s where our charity work kicks in,” Stan replies. “Ford got a call from Susan, said she and most of the town people are ready to protest to the Northwests if necessary. Needless to say power to the people is stronger than the 1% in this town.”

He lets out a long sigh, no need to hide it now, seeing as how he’s unsure of what’s to come in the future. “What about Pacifica?”

Stan looks up at him and sighs right back, as if he knew Dipper was going to ask that. “She probably didn’t know about any of this. But that’s over now. She’s free to choose whatever she wants, but I advise you to leave that job behind.” There’s a steel look to his eyes, cold and direct. “Leave everything behind.”

But Dipper can’t do that, for the first time in his life he has to decline this petition. He cannot abandon Pacifica, not now, not when everything’s happened. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

Instead of the sneer or the eye roll he expected, Stan smirks, huffing out a small laugh. “I had a feeling you’d be feeling like that.”

“It’s always nice to see family bonding,” A familiar voice says as the door clicks shut, Cipher stepping in ridiculously overdressed in a blue tux. There’s the familiar, unnerving smile to his features as he steps forward, the cops setting aside.  _ He has them all bought,  _ Dipper realizes as the final click shuts. “Now, question is how desperate you two are to get out of this one.”

“What does that mean?”

“It doesn’t make any goddamn sense, Cipher,” Stan retaliates, nearly spitting out his words. “How do you benefit from us doing you a favor? You already have my territory, and I have to assume you also hold both the supernatural elements of this freaky deaky ghost town and the Northwest’s favor,” Dipper would wince at the mention of that name but he doesn’t, he’s too busy defining Cipher with only his stare. “So what the hell do you want?”

“Stanley, Stanley, Stanley,” Cipher says, hitching a chair from the corner of the room and turning it around, sitting on it backwards, his arms leaning on the top part of the railing. “See, death is too easy of a sentence for you two, and prison, while it may be fun, it won’t be as enjoyable for me since I won’t be able to see the proceedings for myself.” He throws his cane to the opposite side of the room and takes a pendant, from it, flashing images circling. “You see, Stan, I already hurt you the most. The empire you built in an attempt to finally one up your father? Gone. In my hands now, dreams are always fun to see crushed and die.” His gaze turns to Dipper for the quickest minute and he’s actually terrified of what it could mean. “But  **_you_ ** , I already figured how to make you suffer,”

There’s a rumbling in his head, a crashing hurricane of a thousand storms that all collide into one as all the pieces finally fit together in a well put together puzzle. “You were the one who sent the lumberjack ghost after the Northwest’s in the first place.”

There’s that terrifying glint to his nearly yellow eyes again. “Well, well, well, you’re smarter than you look.” Cipher says, sarcastically applauding. “I had to make you and the little heiress meet  _ somehow _ . It was the final piece to the plan in the long run.”

“What’s your end game?”

“Simple,” Cipher accentuated by dramatic hand gestures. “After making you two go through pain and misfortune, I’m marrying little miss money bags and securing her green as well.”  Dipper scowls, a growl in his throat which made Cipher cackle, throwing his head back. “That certainly got your attention, didn’t it? And guess what? I’m gonna make her life a little bit more  _ fun  _ too.”

“Why are you doing this?” Stan says before Dipper has the chance to lunge at him, chair and all. The desire to do so is unbearably huge, but Stan’s voice was always a beacon of calm and collectiveness for him. “It doesn’t make any goddamn sense, Cipher. You can have any other district, town even goddamn city or settle, and yet you settle for here?”

“Oh that one’s easy, Stanley, but then again you were never the bright twin, were you?” He stands up and runs a hand through his blonde, long hair. “Gravity Falls is special. It has that supernatural element that I’ve been looking for for a while. And now, with both it’s law and financial state in my hands, the town is mine to control, weird paranormal shit and all. Besides, what’s life without a little chaos and anarchy, huh?”

“What makes you think the people will just hand you the town?” Dipper manages to say between his rage and frustration.

Which only seemed to ignite Cipher’s fire and wickedness in his eyes. “They’ll have no other choice.”

 

* * *

Mabel nearly received her with open arms as soon as Pacifica lunges into the Mystery Shack, the only residents left being her, Wendy, Soos and his lovely wife. “ _ Pacifica _ ,” Mabel had said when she opened the door as Pacifica hugged her, a bit out of character but needing some type of reassurance.

“They took him,” Pacifica says as she tries to calm down, she’s not crying but her eyes are edged in tears. “They took Dipper.”

Mabel looks at the necklace on Pacifica’s neck and suddenly manages to make everything click. “Come on,” She says, making way for her in the shack. Wendy quickly says hello as Soos and his wife ( _ She’s later told her name was Melody _ ) exit the room, leaving them to the small privacy needed. “So, you and Dipper… uh…?”

Pacifica’s cheeks flush as she fidgets on the edge of her dress, feet dangling from the seat she had taken and finding the floor much more interesting than the inevitable conversation. “It’s hard to explain.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Wendy says, trying to offer some sort of comfort. Pacifica appreciated it. “That’s yours to keep private, Mabel leave the poor girl alone.”

Mabel smiles softly, taking it as a cue to try to lighten up the mood, make her feel better. “No need to get so sad, Paz,” She says, curling an arm around her shoulders. “Ford will get ‘em out in no time.”

“Let’s hope you’re right,” Pacifica answers, leaning into the embrace. She feels so lost at the moment that it scares her. Pacifica Northwest has never been the type of person who doesn’t have a plan, but at the moment where the unmanageable seemed to be her only future, it was getting harder and harder to maintain hope and pretenses. “I’m never stepping into that house again.”

Wendy and Mabel share a look before going back to Pacifica. “I guess you know, huh?” Mabel asks, letting her go guide her to the living room, the more comfortable of spaces in the shack. “What do you plan on doing now? You’re more than welcomed to stay with us in the meantime.”

Pacifica has always known about the fact that home had never been a place; home was a feeling and right now as she looks around her to concerned faces and her new necklace dangles from her neck, she knows she’s just now starting to find a home, little by little. “Thank you.”

“Miss Northwest,” She hears a voice call from the corner and noticed Stanford Pines emerging, a sad look to his eyes as he approaches her. They all look so alike, the Pines. Same features, same deep, soulful brown eyes, same defiant stares. “Thank you for coming.”

And it feels rather useless, if it weren’t for her, most of this would have never happened. “Please don’t, I--” She starts but she can’t find the strength to continue. Her utter disdain and lack of contempt for her parents now must seen eminent because they don’t ask her for more. “Is there any way we can get them out?” She asks, looking up at Ford. “Any loopholes? Bail money?”

“It’s still being decided,” Ford offers, brought down by the news himself as he takes a seat in the couch, hands on his head. “But I am doing the best I can. Unfortunately, most cops have been switched for ones in Cipher’s pocket. So all we can do is wait.”

And Pacifica swears she’s never heard of a more dreaded word, hint or sound other than that.  _ We have to wait. _

**Author's Note:**

> There will be dipcifica content next chapter! Remember to comment & leave kudos! :D


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